I watched nervously from front lawns as Miss A ran after her big sister and her friends. She navigated her way through shadowy yards and down dimly lit pathways leading to the candy mecca at each friendly glowing front porch. She ran ahead over and over, leaves crunching beneath her feet, always wanting to keep up with the bigger girls.
My neighbor commented, “It’s tough to be the littlest one, isn’t it?” and another neighbor’s little boy, dressed like a hot dog complete with mustard, declared his love for Miss A. But she was a girl on a mission not to be discouraged or distracted. She would not be left behind by the big kids.
She raced to keep up with them and my heart stopped on more than one occasion as I feared that she would trip and fall and that we’d end up making another trip to the ER. Come to think of it, I did pour myself a margarita as soon as we got back to the house and the girls were sorting through their sugary loot.
I held back.
She ran forward.
I offered to hold her treat bag when it became almost too heavy for her to carry, but she told me she didn’t need any help, slung the straps over her shoulder, and kept forging ahead.
I offered her my hand, but she kept going. It wasn’t so much about the candy as it was the principle of keeping up with her sister.
Don’t let the cute dimple or the pink toenails fool you. She’s one tough bat girl.