God was punishing us for taking the kids to a winery. We lost our son for the longest seven minutes of our lives (See “Seven Minutes”); and, as if that wasn’t enough, we narrowly avoided a trip to the hospital.
After a two-hour ride in the minivan, we got to the vineyard’s Key West festival, where we were meeting some friends. The way the festival worked, we were supposed to do a wine tasting and buy a bottle to drink. The kids had been great in the car, but they needed to move around, so I said I’d take them and my husband and our friend Annie went to do a tasting.
I took the kids down to a field by the entrance. Some other kids were playing and I told them to race to the end and back. They ran and my six-year-old daughter easily won, but I was happy that they burned some energy. It was hot that day — but not sweltering — and we sat in the shade for a while. When they got restless, we browsed the vendors. There was a sand art vendor and the kids had fun making a multicolored baseball and a clamshell. Sand art in hand, we headed back to our spot by the band. My husband had set up the chairs and I got some wine and went to chat a little, but just then my three-year-old son kicked off a hardy cry fest.