Mae refused to take another step. She dug her nails into her mother’s arm and seemed seconds away from a full-blown panic attack. I’d seen her melt down from fear before, but that was when things were actually scary. Taking her and her sisters to a haunted house at Halloween was among the worst ideas I’ve ever had. Paying someone to make my kids scream was entirely unnecessary. I hear them do that on a daily basis just interacting with each other. Why politely ask your sibling to move out of the way when you could let out an ear piercing shriek that makes the neighbors wonder if they should call the police? Back at that haunted house, at least I knew I was asking for trouble. This new meltdown, on the other hand, caught me completely off guard. We weren’t at some carnival-level attraction full of jump scares. We were visiting one of the most highly regarded museums in the world. There was one exhibit, however, that terrified Mae to her core. We’ve been dealing with the fallout ever since.
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Mae's Public Meltdown
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Family comedy one disaster at a time.
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