Desertion

My boys and I went to a haunted corn maze today.  It was a really neat place on the outskirts of our suburb, with a central play area, a children's maze and an adult-height haunted maze.  They had a cornbox (as opposed to a sandbox...very strange concept, but less like a catbox, I suppose!), giant hay bales and piles for the kids to climb on and jump into, a rubber ducky water trough race, and a ton of campfires and picnic tables.

We waited until dark to enter the haunted maze (after the distant screams had already begun), and were promptly terrorized by all of the horrifyingly-masked teenagers chasing us through the maze.  Oh, and we didn't have a flashlight.  Smart.  At several points, blocking the way were tunnels made out of tarps, with fog machines and strobe lights adding proper spooky atmospheric touches.  To continue on through those particular paths, you had to go through the tunnels.  We came to one such point while running away from the sounds of a chainsaw behind us (truly one of the scariest things in the world, to hear a chainsaw and screams in the distance while you're in the dark, in a maze that's several feet taller than your head).  E and I were not entirely eager to go into the tunnel, but we wanted to get away from the massacre that was obviously happening behind us, so we made D go first.  Unfortunately, as soon as he took a step into the tunnel, he disappeared into the fog and was literally invisible.  I tentatively reached a hand in, searching for him, but he had moved out of reach, also.

So I refused to go in.

E started screaming: "Let's go, Mom! There are monsters in there!"
"But we have to wait for D!"
"No, we don't!!"

Bravery and loyalty only go so far when you're 7.

Eventually, our indecision lasted long enough that D came back out for us and we made it out of the maze without any unfortunate consequences or limb losses.

Happy Halloween!!