Journal, Day 76

Friday afternoon, the benefactor swooped up the younger children, apologizing in advance for having to take them to an educational function that day. Upon arriving, the children immediately began protesting, not wanting to stay inside the building. The benefactor made it clear in no uncertain terms that they were not to be unsupervised. The childrens’ solution was to then run around the seating area until being reprimanded at least three times (the benefactor generally loses count after two). When threatened with losing the privilege of attending a special festivity later in the evening, they finally settled long enough to get through the opening remarks.
 
The benefactor dragged them to various educational classes to acquire information about the elder children’s academia. They sat in a relative stupor, just maintaining enough to get through each 10 minute period. At one of the last presentations, the youngest male was delighted to get an opportunity to take a pocket book of the constitution, wanting to grab an entire handful. Reluctantly, he whittled his take down to three.
 
Finally finished with the formal aspect of their day, the benefactor walked the children to the Plaza, where a grotesque ball for children was being held. People in various costume littered the town square, and after procuring a light snack, they walked about, listening to the electronically generated music. Eventually, the children asked to mix with the crowd on the dance floor, slowly but surely inching upward to the stage. After pretending for an hour that they did not want to dance on the stage with the other young people bouncing and swaying, they finally ventured up and let loose. Occasionally they would return to the benefactor, and at one point, the eldest male came back to remind the benefactor that he had the constitution in his pocket, “just in case there is a riot.” Twas a lovely, peaceful evening despite his preparations for potential upheaval.
 
Sunday, we journeyed see the effigy known as Zozobra, a huge, terrifying puppet stuffed with the ‘glooms’ of the city. Despite our efforts to leave at an appropriate time, we didn’t manage to undertake our travels until an hour and a half past our target timeline. The younger children were at first reluctant, until the promise of ice cream was presented as a reward for faithfully doing their weekend chores.
 
Arriving at the warehouse of consumer goods, the children attempted an automatic beeline for the ice cream counter, and then became disgruntled when the benefactor forced them to first walk and explore the artistic displays. After wandering for a short bit in search of paper and writing instruments to write out our glooms, and a great deal of public haggling, the benefactor finally agreed to purchase the cold confection desired.
 
As the children indulged their sweet teeth, the benefactor scrolled out her lengthy list of the year’s miseries for the celebratory inferno to come. The youngest female, upon finishing her dessert, begged to mount the overpriced, circling carnival ride. She sulked at the benefactor’s refusal. When the benefactor took her list of melancholy to place in the box for the effigy’s stuffing, the youngest female ripped her own piece of paper to record her gloom: that the benefactor refused her a ride on the much coveted merry-go-round.
 
Returning home, the children dispersed to their various corners: the elders hid in their room whilst the youngest enjoyed a story with the alien doctor. The benefactor slipped outside to rest in her hammock, and the youngest female came to join her. After sharing that she felt glum, the youngest female curled up and requested the reading of a book. Her and the benefactor snuggled in the fresh air, the canine also joining to hear the tale of a dark haired, pale royal and seven height impaired men. Soon after, bedtime arrived swiftly, and the children were snuggled and tucked, the benefactor instantly exhausted from such a lively day.