The wails were coming from near the concession stand on the other end of the parking lot where I had noticed a church group was selling hot dogs and offering to wash cars. We all turned in the general direction and wondered what had caused the commotion.
None of us saw anything until my son pointed into the sky and said, “Look!”
We did, but there seemed to be nothing but blue sky and sunshine. But then I squinted and saw it. High above us, dancing with a hawk.
My daughter took the opportunity to offer her usual take of part philosophy and part practicality: “You gotta hang on to stuff,” she said. “If you don’t, it’ll just float away.”
My family finished shopping, winding into one store and out another, until we had each crossed our necessities off our respective lists. The end brought us to the concession stand. Hot dogs and a car wash were offered, but only the hot dogs were accepted. “I wash my own cars,” I told the nice lady. She didn’t understand. Guy thing.
“You two want a balloon?” I asked the kids. Which was a stupid question, really. What kid doesn’t want a balloon? I’m thirty-eight years old, and I wanted one…
To read the rest of this post, hop on over to katdish’s site. And please, don’t be afraid of the balloons in your life…