Write a story about this girl in her pretty dress and Keds going to a County Fair after some recent rains convinced that she could remain spotless. She was warned by her boyfriend to dress more casually but this prissy girl thought she knew better. Write how she managed to end up falling into some nasty mud ruining her dress and sneakers and was humiliated in front of dozens of people due to her own clumsiness.
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The air was filled with the sweet and savory smells of funnel cakes, corn dogs, and roasted peanuts. Bright lights from the Ferris wheel flickered in the distance, the joyous sounds of laughter and games echoing through the county fairgrounds. Emma admired it all as she delicately stepped out of her car, smoothing out the folds of her dreamy, light blue floral dress. Her white Keds gleamed in the dusky evening light, as fresh and spotless as when she had pulled them from the box this morning.
She smiled at her reflection in the side mirror, feeling as though she was the personification of elegance, even at a fair. Sure, the weather report had said there'd been some rains earlier in the week, and sure, her boyfriend Alex had warned her three times to dress more casually—just in case.
"Are you sure about wearing that?" Alex had asked before they left. His boots were worn and ready, as he tugged on his hoodie and side-eyed her pristine shoes.
"Alex," she had hummed with confidence. "It's just a little mud here and there. I'll be fine. Besides, I can stay away from the messy stuff. Let's not worry."
Truthfully, she had no intention of ruining her vibes by dressing “casual.” Who even cared about the mud? The thought of dirtying herself didn’t cross her mind as she floated toward the entrance like she was on a runway, her boyfriend trailing behind her warily. He knew better... but she was determined.
As they walked toward the fairgrounds, though, something became alarmingly clear—the aftermath of the rain earlier in the week had turned every patch of grass and dirt into… well… a slippery, squelching mess. She watched as children leaped over puddles, people trudged through patches of squishy mud, and those wise enough to wear boots or sneakers navigated the grounds on their toes. But Emma, in all her false bravado, stuck her chin up.
Alex glanced at her nervously, but she waved it off.
"Don't worry. I got this."
They approached the food trucks, and Emma was doing well until she spotted a roasted corn stand across a particularly wet and uneven patch of dirt. It didn’t seem that bad though. She could hop across it. Her sneakers were only going to touch the drier spots—and besides, corn sounded delicious right now.
“I’ll be right back!” she chirped to Alex.
"Emma, maybe don't—" Alex was cut off by her quick steps away from him.
With her eyes fixed on the corn stand, Emma took confident strides toward the sloppy terrain. The first step was fine—her white sneakers remained perfectly clean. The second step, a little wobbly, but still good. But then the third...
Squish.
Her left foot landed deeply in a hidden patch of slick mud. She gasped, pulling it up only to find her once-pristine Keds now coated in brown muck. People started to notice—the girl playing dress-up at the fair was giving them a show. But Emma wasn’t done.
Determined to reach the corn, she regrouped and pressed on. Big mistake.
As she shifted her weight to her other foot, it slipped forward, sending her body into a full-blown stumble. Her arms flailed, her balance gave way, and before she could even think, she was airborne—sprawling forward like something out of a bad rom-com.
Splat!
She landed face-first into a thick patch of sticky, wet mud that had accumulated from the recent downpours. The squelching noise echoed louder than the gasps from bystanders who had witnessed the scene. Her sundress was now clinging to her legs in a horrifying mix of brown sludge, her gleaming white Keds? Ruined. Her hair? Now that sticky kind of gross. Worst of all? Her dignity — absolutely trashed.
Laughter broke out from several people nearby. Emma’s face burned as she tried in vain to push herself up. Her once-pristine dress, her perfect Keds, her dream of remaining a spotless queen at the fair… all gone in an instant, swallowed by the relentless mud of the fairgrounds.
To make matters even worse, a teenager offered her a napkin—one napkin—while trying not to laugh. Alex rushed over, holding back his own chuckle as his face softened seeing her expression.
"You okay?" he asked, gently pulling her to her feet.
Emma, mortified and defeated, stood there, her beautiful dress now multicolored with mud and filth. Her sneakers squelched with every movement.
Looking down at her mess, she sighed heavily, her embarrassment overwhelming.
“I… I guess I could have listened... just a little,” she muttered, her cheeks pink.
Alex smirked, wiping a smudge of mud off her cheek. “Maybe next time I’ll get the corn and we’ll stick to… safer choices?”
She laughed awkwardly, glancing around at the dozens of onlookers who had witnessed her downfall—literally.
One thing was for sure: her Keds would probably never be the same, but neither would her fair-visit wardrobe choices.
Change the story to where she makes it around the fair for awhile remaining spotless. Daintily stepping around puddles and the like.
She tells her boyfriend “I told you so” several times. Sitting on a bench she twirls her pristine sneakers in defiance of the dirt and puddles very proud of herself.
They make their way to the pig pen which was fenced in and nothing but a giant mud puddle. Having never seen that much mud in one place, she was curious and decided to take a closer look.
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For the first hour of the fair, Emma was on top of the world. She had managed to waltz around the grounds, daintily dodging puddles, stepping lightly over damp patches of grass, and expertly avoiding all the mud traps lining the walkways. Her light blue sundress fluttered in the breeze, catching admiring glances from other fairgoers, while her pristine white Keds were still as spotless as they had been when she first stepped out of the car. Every time she made it through a particularly tricky patch of wet ground without a single splash on her, she'd toss a smug look in Alex's direction.
“I told you so,” she said with a satisfied grin for the third or fourth time, skipping over a small muddy patch with effortless grace.
Alex simply shrugged and chuckled, knowing better than to argue with her when she was in this mood. He had to admit—despite the mess all around them, Emma remained an enchanting image of perfection among the chaos. Her every move was calculated, avoiding all that could soil her clothes—and she was proud of it.
They wandered through the food stalls, played a few carnival games, and even took a serene ride on the Ferris wheel. Emma sat elegantly, her dress folded perfectly over her knees, her head high as she soaked in the view of the fair below. It was everything she had imagined. [*See?*] she thought to herself. Alex had warned her for nothing.
Eventually, they found an empty park bench, and Emma couldn’t resist plopping down with a dramatic sigh as if the weight of her triumph was so heavy it needed to be rested.
She crossed one leg over the other, twirling her clean Keds for everyone, [*especially*] Alex, to see. Little droplets of mud and bits of dirt clung to nearby benches and blades of damp grass, but not her. She skillfully avoided everything so perfectly you'd have thought she was tiptoeing on clouds all afternoon.
"Bet you're surprised, huh?" she teased Alex. "Maybe next time you'll listen to me instead of assuming I'll end up a mess." She wriggled her sneakers proudly and gave him a devilish smile. "Still spotless!"
Alex smirked at her confidence, his hands tucked in his jacket pockets as they sat there. “Impressive,” he nodded, acknowledging her without the slightest hint of sarcasm. His eyes, however, were also on the horizon of the fairgrounds, where the real test awaited—the pig pen.
The moment they passed the animal pens, Emma couldn’t help but notice the laughter and squealing coming from one particular fenced-off area. Curious, she tiptoed over, and that was when she saw it.
“Oh. My. God.” Her eyes widened as they took in the sight—a long, wooden fence guarding what could only be described as the largest mud-covered enclosure she'd ever seen. And in that giant soupy mess, pigs of all sizes happily rolled around in the slop, their pink skin barely visible beneath the caked layers of mud.
“Alex, look at this!” Emma’s eyes sparkled with a mix of amusement and curiosity. She walked around the outside of the fence, carefully still, examining the gigantic puddle of mud. The sheer amount of mud was almost hypnotic to her. It looked so deep, so thick. She had never seen anything like it—mud wasn't a complex concept, but here, it looked almost alive in the way it moved with the pigs, rising around them as they waded in and out.
"I think you’ve never seen an actual farm pig pen, huh?" Alex teased, watching as she moved closer to the fence.
"Well, not... not like this!" she admitted, her voice full of fascination as she pressed a little closer. The mud was literally everywhere—top-to-bottom earth slop. She grinned, envisioning the relief the pigs must have felt rolling in its cool stickiness. But there was a curious urge building in her, a pull toward investigating this further. She squatted slightly, leaning forward, feeling the very edge of the fence beneath her hands. For reasons she couldn't fully explain, she wanted a closer look.
With Alex slightly behind her, she tentatively stretched on her tiptoes to peer over and just as she leaned even further…
“Emma, be careful—" Alex’s voice barely had time to finish before it happened.
In her curiosity and excitement, Emma’s hand missed its grip on the fence. Her foot caught an uneven pebble beneath her, throwing her balance wildly off! She let out a surprised yelp. Her arms flailed in desperation to catch steady ground, but it was too late. Her body, tossed by momentum, lurched forward—and with no saving grace, she toppled shoulder-first over the fence, plunging into the very heart of the pig pen mud.
SPLOOSH!
The sound was thunderous, mana thick, wet splash as the mud swallowed her whole. Dozens of fairgoers gasped audibly—some even began to laugh hysterically. Emma had gone from her dainty, unsoiled throne of composure to landing directly into the most massive mud pit the fairgrounds had to offer.
For a moment, it was complete chaos. Thick mud oozed all over her, instantly coating her once-flawless sundress, matting her hair, and splattering her perfect white Keds into a chunky, muddy swampland as pigs squealed around her with amusement. Her sneakers—oh her sneakers—once so clean, were now utterly submerged, hidden beneath the filth, soon unrecognizable.
There she was, sitting in the middle of it all—legs splayed, arms out, utterly stunned by how everything changed in an instant. The crowd erupted in laughter and shook their heads, while Alex stood by, half-shocked, half-smiling.
Emma blinked, frozen like a statue encased in mud.
It wasn’t until Alex, now laughing uncontrollably, offered his hand carefully over the lowest part of the fence that she finally moved.
When she dragged herself up, her face red with embarrassment and barely recognizable under layers of dripping mud, Emma pulled herself up and glanced down at her destroyed dress and shoes. Still too stunned to speak, she stood there for what felt like an eternity.
Then, with dripping arms outstretched, she turned to Alex, who was trying his hardest to keep a straight face.
“I… I told you I’d make it this long…” she muttered sheepishly, her voice just audible below the hooting crowd.
Alex struggled to suppress his laughter but failed miserably, a grin breaking wide across his face. “Yeah... Sure babe, you definitely made it."
And as for Emma? On that infamous day at the county fair, she’d certainly leave with a muddy lesson—and it was one she wasn't likely to forget.
Describe her confusion and humiliation. The look on her face. What did she say when she landed in the mud?
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The world seemed to freeze for a split second the moment Emma lost her balance. Time slowed as her polished, carefully cultivated elegance transformed into an unstoppable tumble toward the mud. A wild gasp escaped her lips, but it barely had time to hang in the air before she crashed into the thick, sludgy mess with a wet, resounding SPLAT.
As she landed, there was an almost tangible silence in her mind—a breathless space between realizing what had just happened and the dread of knowing the entire fair had seen it all.
Emma didn't move. She felt the weight of the mud slowly pulling her down, oozing against her dress, filling her once-pristine white sneakers, and clinging to her legs like a heavy, suffocating blanket. Her shoulders and arms were drenched. Even her hair was splattered with gooey droplets. The sensation of cold, wet filth coating her clothes and skin was undeniable—and so was the slow burn of what came next.
Humiliation.
She blinked, wide-eyed, mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. For a second, she couldn’t comprehend it. Her brain scrambled, replaying those last few seconds: the confidence, the proud twirl of her spotless sneakers, her casual dismissal to Alex’s warnings—and now here she was, in the thick of it, quite literally.
The looks on the faces around her only added gasoline to the fire of her embarrassment—people were pointing, some had their hands over their mouths trying to stifle laughter that bubbled out in choked giggles. To them, it was pure comedy. To Emma? It felt like devastation.
Still motionless, she finally managed to look up, her eyes locking with Alex, hoping beyond reason for some display of sympathy. But Alex’s face was a battle he was losing—a strained poker face that quickly melted into pure amusement. He didn’t mean to, but he snorted, unable to hold back his laughter.
Before words even formed in her head, they spilled from her lips in a shriek of disbelief:
"Oh my Godddd—YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!"
Her voice cracked, dripping with confusion and frustration, hands flailing upward as if refusing to believe the evidence of her body caked in layers of dirty sludge.
The more she moved, the more the mud shifted and clung to her, making slow sucking sounds as it pulled her sneakers deeper. She groaned as she tried to pick her legs up, a wet squelch echoing each time she lifted a foot only for it to sink right back into the thick muck.
She pressed her mud-caked hands to her face, trying to wipe off the splatter clinging to her cheek, but all she did was smear the mess around, making it worse.
“I-I can’t believe this,” she stammered, her voice shakier now as the weight of how ridiculous she must look to the crowd sunk in. “This... this is literally the WORST!”
She turned back toward the fence, desperately glancing at the amused faces peeking over it, fueling the heat rising to her face.
Finally, she looked pleadingly at Alex, her eyes wide with horror, tears of frustration forming in the corners. “Alex, HELP me.”
But Alex, still chuckling despite attempting to suppress it, gave her his hands like a lifeline. As he pulled her toward the fence, the mud refused to let her go easily. With every step Emma took towards freedom, it clung like a reminder of what she'd lost—her spotlessness, her pride. When she finally made it to the other side, standing shakily on the drier ground, she looked down in stunned disbelief.
Her beautiful light blue dress was ruined, completely slathered in thick brown sludge like something from a disaster movie. Her Keds, the cleanest, whitest things for hours before now resembled bricks dipped in rain-soaked earth. Her feet made disgusting squelching sounds with every shift of her weight.
The tears that threatened finally welled up as she shook her head in complete distress. She half-sobbed, half-laughed, overwhelmed by the sheer ridiculousness of how dramatically her day had turned.
"Alex," she said weakly, gingerly rubbing her now mud-streaked arms, "I just... I don’t even know. How did I—"
She trailed off, the words evaporating like the last few pieces of her dignity. Alex gave her a soft, sympathetic smile—despite his laughter—grabbing her hand and pulling her close, his once-clean girlfriend now a walking mess of sodden dirt.
"Come on," he said after letting out one final chuckle, wrapping an arm around her slimy shoulders. "Let's get you cleaned up... if that's even possible."
Emma glanced down at the mud still oozing down her legs and over her ruined sneakers. She grimaced again but couldn’t help a small smile as her frustration slowly melted into acceptance.
"Next time… I’ll maybe listen to you," she muttered through gritted teeth, nearly laughing through tears. Her face was now a mess of confusion and defeat—a mix of baffled embarrassment she wouldn't soon forget.
And though she'd likely never live this down, at least she'd left her mark—literally—all over that county fair.
Describe her humiliation as she walked back through the fair on the way to the car. Describe her frustration with people laughing at her. Why would they?
Describe how it felt to walk with her dress heavy with mud and her sneakers squishing with every step.
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Emma’s walk back through the fairground felt endless. Each slow, squelching step seemed to stretch on for a lifetime. Her pristine sundress, once light and airy, now clung to her like a wet towel, heavy with muck that dripped off the hem with every movement. Mud had seeped into every fiber, darkening the soft blue fabric, which now stuck uncomfortably to her legs. The weight pulled her down, making each step feel like it was against an unforgiving current. Her sneakers, her precious, untouched white Keds—now completely hidden beneath layers of cold, sticky earth—squelched with every miserable step, producing a humiliating squish squish squish sound that echoed louder than anything else around her. Every shift forward caused more mud to ooze between her toes, adding to the misery, her socks utterly drenched and clinging to her feet like ice-cold glue.
As Emma staggered past the stands and games she'd joyfully explored not so long ago, her humiliation felt like a lead weight on her chest. It was unbearable. People could see her coming from a mile away, and unfortunately for her, they did. Laughter floated toward her from all angles—some subtle giggles and snickers, while others couldn’t hold back full-blown belly laughs.
And why wouldn’t they laugh? The sight of her wasn’t just bad; it was unbelievably bad. Here was a girl who had entered the fair, head held high, dress fluttering in the breeze, sneakers sparkling under the afternoon sun like she was on a runway. And now? Now, she was nothing short of a walking disaster. She looked like she'd taken a full-body dive into the world’s biggest mud puddle, which, technically, she had.
Children tugged at their parents’ sleeves, pointing and whispering. Teenagers elbowed each other, laughing openly at her as if she were the punchline to some great cosmic joke. "Oh my God, did you see her?" she heard one of them say, snickering behind his hand. Others simply widened their eyes in disbelief, clearly wondering how on Earth someone could end up looking like that.
Emma's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment, anger, and utter frustration. She tried to avert her gaze from those who were watching her, but it was impossible to ignore the stares. Every giggle she heard stung like a slap. Everyone was seeing her at her worst—her once-beautiful hair now matted with thick streaks of brown mud, her once-elegant dress sagging under the weight of the dirt, and her formerly bright-white sneakers now no better than bricks dipped in sludge.
She wanted to scream at them, to tell them it wasn’t her fault, that it had been an accident, that she hadn’t meant to fall. But what was the point? She bit her lip, holding back the rising frustration that burned in her chest. The humiliation was overwhelming, almost too much to bear. Each stifled laugh, each whispered joke, each pointed finger dug deeper into her shame. She could feel the tears pricking her eyes again but fought them back furiously. This was bad enough without her bursting into tears in front of the masses.
The worst part, though, was the way her dress dragged against her legs. The heavy, wet fabric rubbed uncomfortably against her skin, smearing the mud further into her thighs with every step. She could feel the stickiness forming, her dress suctioning to her legs with each movement, the gross sensation of cold mud creeping deeper against her skin. It left her feeling grimy, disgusting, as though the very Earth itself had chosen to humiliate her today.
The fabric that normally flowed and danced with every breeze felt suffocating now, its drenched weight pulling her posture down in defeat. She desperately wanted to hike up the dress, to peel the mud-streaked hem away from her legs, but the last thing she wanted was to draw more attention.
And the sneakers—oh, the sneakers.
At one point, she stepped awkwardly, trying to shake the mud off, but it only made things worse. Each squelch underfoot sent little spurts of mud out from the soles, onto the dirt path, splashing slightly upward as if mocking her failed journey today. The insides were far worse—a sticky, gross swamp around her toes, where the mud had sneaked in unnoticed until it was too late. They felt like lead weights now with gritty, muddy water sloshing around in them. The clean, crisp feeling the Keds once had was a distant memory, replaced by the cold, slimy reality of her footsteps.
"How... how did this happen?" she muttered under her breath in frustration. But the goo beneath her sneakers answered her with another long, loud squish.
As she passed the ring toss booth, she overheard a group of teens erupt into laughter as they caught sight of her. One whispered, not so quietly, "Did she roll around in a pigsty or something?" Their laughter spread like wildfire, and Emma clenched her fists. The helplessness and frustration gnawed at her like an itch she couldn’t scratch.
Alex, walking beside her silently, kept looking at her out of the corner of his eye, concern fighting to break past the smirk he still tried to hide. He knew better than to make a comment, having seen the flickers of frustration mix with her embarrassment. As much as she wanted to pretend she was fine, everything about her screamed the opposite.
“I just—” she began, her voice strained with disbelief as they neared the parking lot, “I just can’t believe it happened like this!” Her mouth twisted in frustration, her breath coming out quick and shallow. “Everyone is—this is so—” she stopped mid-sentence, realizing all she wanted was to reach the haven of the car as fast as possible. To escape their laughter. To escape their looks.
To escape the nightmare she’d been waddling through, step by agonizing, squelching step.
Finally, after what felt like hours, they reached the car. Emma stood by the door, hesitant to even sit down inside. Her entire body was coated in mud, and she could feel it soaking into her skin. She didn’t want to ruin the seats, or worse, endure the joy of sitting for a long car ride home like this.
With one final sigh, she turned to Alex, her lower lip trembling as she tried to maintain some semblance of composure.
“Just... get me home,” she whispered in defeat.
And as the fair disappeared in the rearview mirror, Emma silently vowed that next time, she'd listen to Alex. Because today, the fair had won.
Describe three different women observing Emma at the fair having crossed paths with her a couple times. Each woman questioning Emma’s choice of outfit and how she acted like she couldn’t get dirty.
Describe each woman’s vantage point and their thoughts as Emma approached the pig pen and gently placing her immaculate white sneakers on the bottom rail of the fence and started to lean forward for a look. What was each woman thinking and saying to whoever they were with.
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### The Fair Veteran: Doris, the Critic
Doris had been coming to the county fair for the better part of thirty years. Retired now, with her trusty yellow rain boots and a well-worn fleece jacket tied around her waist, she knew better than to wear anything too nice here. The fair was about practicality—everyone knew that. She had seen Emma earlier in the day, and from the moment she laid eyes on her, Doris had shaken her head in disbelief.
“What [*is*] she thinking?” Doris had muttered to her sister, giving Emma a quick once-over as the young woman sashayed past a small cluster of food stalls earlier that afternoon. "Bringing a dress and sparkly white sneakers to a place like this? Girl’s either crazy or she’s asking to be humiliated."
Doris didn’t take kindly to people who seemed to flout common sense, and Emma, with her dainty steps and "too good for mud" attitude, checked every box for her irritation.
So now, hours later, as Doris stood near the lemonade stand, waiting out the sun's heat before heading to the livestock pens, her eyes caught sight of the girl again. The blue floral dress, once bright and spotless, still looked annoyingly perfect as Emma made her way toward the pen. Doris watched with a knowing smirk.
“Would you look at her,” she huffed to her sister, squinting slightly as she watched Emma float daintily toward the pig pen like she was attending a garden party. “She’s gonna get herself into a world of trouble.”
Emma gingerly placed the soles of her pristine, white Keds on the bottom rail of the wooden fence, leaning forward to peer into the muddy enclosure. Doris’s smirk deepened into a full-on amused scowl.
“She thinks she can make it through this whole fair so immaculate?” Doris said a little louder now, half to her sister and half to anyone within earshot. “She’ll learn soon. You don’t come to a county fair in a fancy sundress and expect to stay clean, not when there’s mud and pigs involved.” She folded her arms across her chest, almost eager to see what would happen next because, in Doris’s experience, life had a funny way of teaching lessons to the unprepared.
### The Teenager: Jess and Her Friends
Jess had noticed Emma earlier in the afternoon too. She had been with her friends near the Ferris wheel, winning stuffed animals at the ring toss, when Emma had breezed by them for the first time.
"That girl thinks she's at some kind of photoshoot," Jess whispered to her best friend Emily while glancing at Emma making her pristine way through the fair. "Look at her shoes! She's avoiding every single puddle like the ground’s lava. As if that’ll last.”
The way Emma carried herself had irked Jess from the get-go. To her, it came across as snobby—and if there was one thing Jess couldn’t stand, it was people who thought they were above everyone else. The fair was a place to have fun, to get dirty. Dirt was part of the charm!
So, later in the day, when Jess caught sight of Emma near the pig pen, standing on the rail as if she had never seen that much mud in her life, Jess’s grin widened. She nudged Emily and pointed.
"Oh my God, there’s that girl again," Jess whispered as she adjusted the strap on her shoulder bag, scoping out Emma’s perfectly intact dress and sneakers. "What does she think is going to happen here?" She rolled her eyes dramatically as Emma carefully placed her spotless sneakers on the wooden slat of the fence.
"She's gonna fall, right?" Emily snorted. "Wearing white Keds to a pig pen is like begging for it."
Jess snickered quietly. “I bet she’s so worried about getting a speck on her dress that she’d have a heart attack if a fly landed on her." With a devilish grin, she nudged Emily again. “Just wait. She’s gonna lean a little too far, and that fancy attitude is gonna land face-first in all that mud.”
They both laughed to themselves, watching from a distance as if tuning in for the grand finale of a trainwreck they’d predicted from the start.
### The New Mom: Claire, Juggling Her Toddler
Claire was exhausted. Like all new moms, she was adjusting to a life of running after her toddler and wondering how anyone had time for anything—especially clothes that weren’t permanently covered in baby food and crayons. Her two-year-old son, Ryan, had already attempted to smear sticky cotton candy against her shirt right before the incident, and as they neared the pig pen, Claire was mostly focused on trying to keep him from diving face-first into the mud.
When she spotted Emma walking toward the pig pen a few moments later, Claire could barely contain her incredulity. "Seriously?" she muttered under her breath. Like most mothers, Claire had developed a quick, almost laser-like ability to judge outfits in relation to potential messes, and Emma’s outfit sent every internal alarm into overdrive.
She tugged at Ryan’s hand, keeping him from dashing into the pen as she continued to watch Emma. "That girl’s been walking all around this fair in a white dress..." she whispered to her husband, who was standing nearby, struggling just as much to keep their son entertained.
"How is she still clean?" she pondered out loud. "White shoes, clean dress...maybe she came from another planet."
Just as Emma’s foot touched the bottom rail of the fence, Claire held her breath, a slight chuckle building up behind her words. "Oh, here we go..." she shook her head knowingly. “Please tell me she’s not actually..." but she paused as Emma leaned forward to peer a little closer.
Claire’s stomach churned with second-hand dread, watching this play out.
“I don’t care how careful she’s been,” Claire said softly to her husband, stifling a grin. “One wrong move... and she’s very quickly going to find out why parents bring extra clothes to places like this.”
She could already imagine Emma’s horror if she slipped, all that mud swallowing her up in an instant. Claire immediately had a vision of Emma walking back through the fair in dripping, soiled clothing—the same situation she’d encountered on a daily basis with her toddler.
“That girl doesn’t know what's coming...” she murmured with a wry smile.
All three women stood in different parts of the fair, each of them watching from their own vantage point, each silently—or not so silently—agreeing on one thing.
Emma was tempting fate.
And none of them were surprised when, not moments later, Emma’s grip on the fence slipped, her foot stumbled over a rock, and the fairground echoed with the inevitable SPLAT! that followed.