“My Munchin Mouse”

Yesterday my husband and I helped to hold a Halloween Carnival in our back yard for neighborhood children of our subdivision.  Since becoming grandparents to a darling baby girl we’ve realized how fleeting life can be.  As we grow older our time on earth passes by in mere seconds rather than years.  It’s as if I can hear the hands on the clock ticking faster lately as they move from one metal marker to the next, tick-tock…tick-tock…tick-tock.

The day was warm and beautiful in St. Louis.  Bright sunlit shadows peeped in through the woodland forest, casting leaf pictures that decorated our lawn with carpet patterns never purchased.  “Little Mermaid” and a Dinosaur scooted in  together with an angelic brother and sister pair representing, “Hansel and Gretel.”  A spotted, Puppy Dog crawled by my feet wagging his tail in hopes of special treats.  He was followed by a Ninja, a Rapper, Police Woman, a Baseball Player, a Sumo Wrestler, and several others who have already slipped my mind.  I only remember how darling they were dressed,  the look of delight on their faces at the games they played or the cheap prizes they won.  Then there were the giggles of laughter I heard from mouths riding atop bales of  hay drifting from the lawn tractor my husband drove.

Of course, my favorite attendee was my grand baby!  She was dressed as a pink and grey mouse.  My little “Munchkin Mouse” I called her, weighing all of  twenty pounds.  I taught her how to play ring toss over an inflatable “Witch’s Hat.”   Afterward, her grandpa held her up, grinning wide while she took the first smack at the giant pumpkin, Pinta.

My neighbor was there, a single mother who I admire so very much.  She brought her two sons with her, all costumed and ready for fun.  They enjoyed themselves, playing all of the games, roasting hot dogs and eating treats.  Midway, my friend was a bid frazzled, though.  One of her boys lives with Down Syndrome.  To me, his condition is a “Chronic Condition.”  Down Syndrome never goes away.  If one is born with it, there is no cure.  The condition is forever.  Forever is a long time.  I can relate to  my neighbor, my friend from across the street.

I was happy this neighbor friend of mine came to our Halloween Carnival with her two boys, yesterday.  As I watched them it was another lesson learned.  Yes, she was frazzled at times, but no one else was bothered a bit.  Her boys, both of them were just another pair of kids in costume taking part in all the play.  Still, I could see she had her hands full.  After watching my own “Munchkin Mouse” fluff in the hay before stuffing her mouth with hotdogs roasted from sticks, I thanked God for my little “blessing.”

Not so “little” after all.

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