Last weekend we attended my 8 y/o daughter's Autumn Festival at her elementary school. We attended this very same festival last year and much to my surprise it wasn't that bad. The crowds were light, you could just walk right up to the game booths, and they were practically giving away sugar cookies with frosting. You know the kind. The Lofthouse, melt in your mouth, I know I shouldn't be eating this but I swear it has crack inside of it because I can't put it down, cookie.
This year with the promise of a sugar cookie, I agreed to go with the hubby and daughter. I noticed right away that the parking lot was suspiciously full when we arrived. Not a good sign. Inside my daughter's tiny school was wall to wall people. I immediately began to feel claustrophobic and quite honestly a little nauseated. It was hot, crowded and the people standing in line next to me at the ticket booth weren't wearing any deodorant. Damn Portland hippies! I nearly barfed up my turkey burger.
As I stood in lines that resembled Splash Mountain from Disneyland, I began to regret coming. But I held out on the promise of a fattening, delicious, and sure to eventually cause type 2 diabetes cookie. My hubby had to keep reminding me to not make my "poopy face" as he calls it. Honestly I don't even notice i'm doing it. What can I say? I'm a people person.
My hubby had to hold me back when one rude mom decided her little darling shouldn't have to stand in line at the bowling booth like the rest of us, so she totally line cut. I'm convinced there's a special place in hell for line cutters. I got several deep, elbow nudges from the hubby as he gave me the raised eyebrow, "Don't you dare start something" look. I went to my deep calming place. I thought about my cookie.
We made it through the pumpkin painting booth, face painting booth, fishing booth, the reach into the pumpkin and guess which disgusting substance is inside the pumpkin booth, and many, many others. The only booth we didn't go too was the classroom that had been converted into a makeshift dance club. I'm a fairly big Michael Jackson fan, but my eyes simply cannot handle a room full of pre-pubescent kids trying to dance to Thriller. Nope, not even the promise of a cookie could talk me into this one!
The festival was coming to a close, so we fought our way through the crowds and back into the cafeteria so I could get my precious cookie, when that's when I saw it. The freaking cookies were GONE! NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! I almost collapsed right there on the ground and cried. You don't lure a chubby mom with a sweet tooth to a school event with the promise of a cookie, when you don't plan on delivering! I gave my hubby the silent treatment all the way out to the car. Was it his fault? Nope. Was I acting extremely unfair and immature? Yep. Next year I have a plan. I will park my fat butt in front of the cookie booth and he can go fight the crowds with our daughter.