This is the true story of how Little Duck spent his day. It may end up being more of a novella. But stick with me, its worth reading to the end. I promise.
And then, in what felt like slow motion (maybe it was the strobe lights from the swings that go round and round) a miracle happened on West Franklin Street. My eye caught a glimpse of yellow in that half second of flashing light. There on the platform where the ride operator pushes buttons and pulls levers I saw the yellow again. It pulled me forward... running, pushing children aside, leaping over diaper bags and strollers, ignoring the looks from angry parents as I darted. And there he was. Little Duck sat, dirty and rejected looking, in front of the girl who ran the swings. When I was still 10 feet away, I shouted to her above the noise "That duuuuuckkkk! THAT DUCK! Oh my gosh! THAT'S MY SON'S LITTLE DUCK!" Now pushing between children to get closer to her, "Oh my gosh! Can I have that duck? I can't believe it! That's my little boy's duck!" Her expression changed from annoyed to kind when she realized I was pointing to him. "Oh this? I found him behind some boxes over there. I thought someone would probably miss him, so I put him here in case anyone came to look." I had to resist the urge to hug her as she passed Little Duck to me. "I cannot thank you enough for doing that! I could never tell you how much this will mean to him. You have saved a 5-year-old boy from a lot of heartache", I squeaked out between tears.
And then I walked back to my car, sobbing uncontrollably and hugging a filthy yellow beanie baby to my chest. Little Duck had been saved. God saw a little boy's faith and heard his prayer. "Dear God. Since you know where Little Duck is can you help Mom find him?". It was a miracle. Truly.
And for the record, Little Duck will NEVER be allowed to go to the Fall Festival again.