The big day has arrived. I've put our son down for an early nap so that Anissa and company can come over to fine-tune their preparations. (In the meantime, the Husband and I are both speculating about what the Colombian food will taste like. Anissa's family's Colombian.)
They finally arrive an hour late, but it's okay because there's still plenty of time. The Husband and I are very impressed with Teresa who has made an entire clown costume with no pattern at all in less than a week! She looks super.
The Husband helps everyone with their make-up, I get our son dressed, we get in our respective vehicles, and drive to the venue. The drive there is out of this world! People are waving at us, driving alongside us so they can stare at us longer, etc. It's crazy, but enjoyable.
When we get out of the car, I walk our son over to the sidewalk while the 3 clowns unload their magic tricks and balloons. All of a sudden-tires squeal as they burn rubber. A car appears in the parking lot. Being a worrywart, I push my son behind me because I'm considering the possibilities of what to do if my husband becomes a victim of a hate crime.
The driver rolls down his window and I notice some kids in the backseat. "Thank you!" he exclaims joyfully (My brain's saying, "Huh?"). "That's just what I needed today. I'd been having a bad day and needed a laugh. Thank you!" he drives off.
Now, who wouldn't be hooked on clowning after that? Very cool.
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