On Saturday night I decided to take her to the Phoenix Oktoberfest downtown. Before this year I'd never gone to any Oktoberfest celebration and now I've been to two in as many weekends. The weather was nice and I had hoped to get outside to appreciate the outdoors (read: she would work off some of that ever-multiplying energy).
It was great. There was a big open area of grass that allowed June to wander and marvel at the bigger kids. There was food, dancing, dogs. The only problem was the chicken, who June named her mortal enemy upon first sight:
June wanted to dance, so I sat near the stage, but then she just wanted to hang out near the edges, overwhelmed by the bigger girls who were so interested in her.
I missed Michael a lot. Not only because he could have helped me carry all the food plates and set out the blanket to sit on, but because I know it would have been a really fun and relaxing family night.
Instead it was us girls and the Chicken Dance. Which June did want to join.
We danced it four times. Three were all in succession due to a Chicken Dance contest (which was due to immense turnout for the first dance). June hadn't technically made it into the final round of the competition but I wasn't about to make her stop, so she danced alone at the edge of the stage while the real competitors flapped their little 'wings' in the middle.
Not one but two chickens turned out for this experience.
June watched with horrified fascination.