“But I don’t want to play that game.” Mae said after entering, surveying, and witnessing kids engaged in mailing food to chickens at our children’s museum.

“Well, there are lots of other places to go Mae. It looks like they’re having fun.” Admittedly, it was a feeble attempt to get her to join the other kids.

Haze was already busy getting her smock on and fishing for “the big ones” in the water trough. Mae stood there, frozen, using the family stare, seemingly stuck in disgust at the game the other kids were engaged in. As if “Monkey Ball Wall” reigns supreme. It was one of those moments I wish I could crawl into her head, walk down the hallway, and see out those peepers. Was it the following?

Mae’s Brain:

‘Hmmm, they play this game? I didn’t start this game. I don’t know the rules. I don’t like how he brought the egg to the mailbox and then back to the chickens, chickens don’t eat their own eggs. This game is ridiculous. Nobody told me we were playing this today. Wait, ones coming by me. “Eh” (Hide behind dad), maybe he’ll go into the doghouse with me and pant for biscuits while wearing a tie. (Smile and look around to see Haze) What’s sister doing? Huh, wait, why is she playing in the water. I’ll go over to the cow, yah the cow. What? There’s a kid up there? Uh, now, I’ll try to leave, yah let’s go in the block area. (Heads towards the door, realizes I’m not following, and dashes to the doghouse yelping ‘Come on Haze’, hoping we’ll follow.)

Haze’s eyes followed Mae; in an effort to join her sister she tripped down the stairs, stutter-stepped back and forth after remembering to hang her smock, then zigzagged through the mailbox-food-chicken kids to finally reach sister. Falling to her knees she panted the word “Sister” staring at Mae with serious eyes. Solidarity. They asked me to come in, so, I barked, ate biscuits, and soon after we went to catch sharks on the riverboat. Not another thought was given to the fowl mailers.