It is the weekend of festivals here in coastal Georgia. Of course, everything happens this month because in October we are supposed to experience the season of fall. It isn't supposed to be hot, but it was 89 degrees today and hot.
Friday night we went to the Greek festival in Savannah, and we had some awesome Greek food. I had the best spanakopita ever, and the baklava was to die for. Evan now believes gyros are sandwiches from God, and Wes is trying to figure out how to find lamb meat in the state that believes that if it isn't deer meat or fish, it can't be eaten.
Today, after our soccer game in Savannah, we went to the seafood festival in the next town over. The Low Country boil was excellent, and at only $5, it was a steal. While walking around the fair grounds, Keagan was given a balloon. Before I go any further, I might need to tell you that Keagan has a special place in his heart for balloons, and the only explanation I can give is that he can pretend, as the ball floats up above his head, that he is the star receiver for some football team, and he can jump up just at the right time to make an exceptional catch. So as we left the fair today, he was already imagining the great plays he would make in the front yard with his new prize. He was scared to death of losing it. Even after we made our way back to the car, he refused to let any of us roll down a window for fear it would be sucked out. I might have mentioned it was 89 degrees. It was hot, but we knew how attached he had become to the yellow medical group balloon.
On the long drive back home, Wes decided to jokingly hold the balloon out of the sunroof of the car. "Keagan", he taunted, "Look what I am doing." And just like that the balloon was sucked out of the car and into the sky. We watched out the back window as that yellow balloon got smaller and smaller and smaller. Keagan's face contorted in shock. A great big tear rolled down his cheek, and then he was bawling. Bawling over his yellow medical group balloon.
Wes felt horrible. He made all kinds of apologies. All kinds of promises. After hours of crying (what seemed hours, but was probably only 9 minutes), and when we finally made it back to Hinesville, we had to stop at the dollar store to replace the prized balloon. Keagan chose a set of handcuffs, and all was right with the world once again. Keagan's first bit of advice to Evan as we rounded the corner into the neighborhood, "I suggest you run, Evan." His plans of star player football catches were replaced with the image of handcuffing his big brother to the toilet.
I had no idea my afternoon eating shrimp and corn on the cob would involve the tragedy of a lost balloon, but as my mom always says, nothing in our house ever goes as planned.
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