Emotionally Exhausted

Sunday afternoon my husband, Sarah and I explored a fall festival. There were hundreds of booths of artists selling various goods under their pure white tents, ranging from hand lotion to CD's, from crafts to organic beeswax. Sarah held our hands and maneuvered through the crowds of people (what a different perspective to be eye level with the general population's knees). She was magically drawn to the center of the park where there was an inflatable slide and jumping house. She plopped herself down on the grass and spent the better part of a half hour watching kids of all ages and sizes climb to the top of the inflatable slide and bounce down, transfixed. We couldn't tear her away.

My husband wanted to take her on the slide in the worst way. He begged. He pleaded. He cajoled. He offered to go with her. Nothing motivated her to actually want to slide down. She kept replying that she was too little. She wanted to watch the big kids slide down. Eventually my husband convinced her to try. Up they climbed to the top on an inflatable staircase and my husband sat down situating Sarah on his lap. She had pure terror in her eyes. I waited at the bottom of the slide, ready for disaster. Off they went, and her terror turned to pure joy as they bounded and bounced their way down, three seconds of bliss. When they landed at the bottom in a heap, her joy turned to a look disgust. She wiggled off the slide into my arms and told me she was ready for a nap. So we took our emotionally drained toddler home and we all had a nice Sunday afternoon nap.