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A tale of two meltdowns ... Ghosts and Goats totally messing with us

We went to a nearby pumpkin patch this weekend for a playdate with one of Bug's friends.  Over the course of several hours before we left for the pumpkin patch, Bug kept asking me whether there would be ghosts in the pumpkin patch.

"Do you want there to be ghosts at the pumpkin patch?  Or no?"  I asked.

"Yes!  I want to find some ghosts," answered Bug.

"Oh - okay.  Well then we will have to look for them when we get there," I said.

Bug had been excited for this playdate and trip to the pumpkin patch for days.  When we were finally packed and ready to get in the car and drive to the pumpkin patch, Bug started to protest.

"No!  It's not nighttime!  There won't be any ghosts!!"

He was rolling on the floor, refusing to stand let alone to get in the car and go on our playdate, and repeating his theory that we should not go during daylight hours.

Finally, I suggested, "[Bug,] the thing is - I wonder if there are daytime ghosts and nighttime ghosts.  I am pretty sure that ghosts are just fine with the daylight hours.  And maybe if they want it to be dark, they could hide in the shadows under some bushes or trees.  The other things is that I saw a movie called [Schmost Schmusters] where there were plenty of ghosts out during the daytime.  They were in the library... they were..."

"At the Plaza!" my husband added.

Bug seemed reluctantly satisfied and was finally willing to get in the car.

* * *
For the last ten minutes of the playdate, Squish was standing about ten feet from a fence.  On the other side of that fence were several little goats.

Squish was entranced.  He clearly wanted to get closer to them but seemed intimidated.  He kept shouting, "Goats!!!  GOATS!!!"  Then he would take a few steps backwards.  One time after he stepped back, he quickly looked back over his shoulder (as if there could have been goats behind him, too?).

This little dance continued for several minutes.  Shouting.  Backing away.  Reaching out to them.  Never taking his eyes off of them (except to look behind him and make sure there were no rogue goats back there).

Soon it was time to leave.  I had to carry Squish because he wanted to stay and enjoy more time with the goats.  He was protesting loudly.  Snot and tears running down his little face.  Shouting for the goats again.  By the time we got to the parking lot, Squish was so beside himself (and exhausted) that he couldn't shout "More Goats!" anymore, so he just started signing "more" and saying "goats" between sobs.  Poor little dear.

Trying to buckle him into the carseat was futile.  He was shouting at me about those goats, and nothing was soothing him.  Finally, my husband took him a few steps away from the car and I could hear him trying to comfort Squish.  Eventually Squish calmed down enough to get into the car so that we could head home.

* * *

Forty minutes later, the boys were eating delicious Italian takeout, and my husband and I were getting ready to go out for a date.  (Yep - a date!)  All was calm and quiet and easy.  No ghosts.  No goats.  Thank goodness.

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