Last night we went to a minor league baseball game. Right as the first pitch was thrown, Kate suddenly became interested in the game. She was sitting on the lawn, about a foot from the fence, right behind third base. I looked up and saw the large, looming Loon making his way on our direction. I glanced at Kate and saw the panic and terror in her face. In my own panic, I scanned the area around us. There was no way to escape, we were deer caught in the headlights.
The Loon peeked through the fence and motioned Kate to come closer. She backed into me, quite possibly hoping that she would become invisible. He cupped his hands and held them out towards her. Craig gently pulled Kate towards the Loon. Yes, I know, add more in the therapy fund for this one too. The Loon opened his hands and held out a pink baseball to Kate.

Our costume-freak-out-syndrome has been cured, thanks to Lou E Loon. For hours all we heard was, “He’s not scary. He was a nice bird.”
For the rest of the game, when necessary to maintain some degree of control, I would lean in to Kate and say, “You had better listen to your mother, or the bird is going to come and take that ball back.” Don’t you judge me; desperate times call for desperate measures.
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