Sheep in Wolf's Clothing

This weekend ComputerDaddy and I took the kidlets to our favorite cider mill, meeting up with some friends we haven't seen in ages and who have a new kidlet of their own. Their boys are the same difference in age as ours, just a year-and-a-half behind us. My dear friend says she now has a new level of understanding and appreciation for what we have been through. I told her it gets easier in some ways (a little more sleep) and tougher in others (trying to herd TWO mobile children somewhere--there's an ongoing debate as to whether it's like trying to herd chickens or sheep.) They had a couple of friends along, one of which had brought his four children as well. So we were quite a group.

For the most part, it was fun. Both kidlets enjoyed standing on hay bales and poking their heads through the cutouts in those painted boards that are made-to-order Kodak moments, DramaBoy got to ride on a large rusty tricycle over bumpy tracks through monster tire tunnels, DramaBoy also got to ride on a small and placid pony, and both boys got to pet some goats. We take our cider mills seriously here in Michigan: they're not just places to get cider and donuts, they're miniature amusement parks and tourist traps. Minus the rollercoasters.

We finally stood in line to purchase our apple spice donuts and fresh-pressed cider, which we then fed into a plethora of gaping mouths rather in the manner of adult birds feeding cheeping chicks. We tried to find a place out of the wind, but we were only able to mitigate the chill somewhat. The autumn cool had officially ushered in a taste of winter's bite. After a while, my little kidlets in their cute denim jackets were shivering and complaining. We had to leave the rest of the group to continue on in their quest for pumpkins and a hay ride without us; we bundled the kidlets in the car and went in search of winter coats.

Walmart had too few options, despite attractive prices (I know, I'm going to hell for shopping there, but hey! My wallet thanks me), so we bundled them back into the car and went off to Target. You detect a trend in our shopping choices? We didn't visit Meijer only because they usually have an even worse selection of children's clothing than Walmart.

Target was the place. The coats were twice the price of Walmart's rock-bottom, no doubt sweatshop-produced outerwear, but they were thicker and softer and had hoods. DramaBoy selected matching ones for himself and The Widget--muted pine green with a pumpkin-orange lining and mottled light- and dark-brown faux fur edging around the hood. Never may it be said that my child does not have taste! Not for him the neon green and navy blue coat! Not for him the flashy Disney merchandising! (Well, maybe the latter, but we didn't show him those. We have standards too, and they're often based on price.)

The moment was capped when we slid the coat on for a fitting and pulled the hood over his head. His eyes lit up, he felt the faux fur, and he said:

"I'm the Big Bad Wolf!"

And as we laughed and smiled at his adorable precociousness, he glanced at me with a slightly worried look on his face and assured me:

"But I'll be a NICE Big Bad Wolf!"

How could we resist? The Widget also gained a new coat, thus dubbed the Little Bad Wolf in my mind at least, and we merrily went on our way to pay for the coats and venture once more into the frigid not-yet-winter-but-you-could-have-fooled-me Michigan air.

It's not a search for buried treasure, but you take what adventure you can get.