"Willow, give the kid his candy back!"
"Willow, stop that."
"Willow, don't run."
"Willow, slow down."
"Willow!"
"What?" Willow, the birthday girl turned around frustrated to face a very distressed Nathaniel. I wouldn't blame her; I had merely heard of his tendencies at being a worry wart. What I didn't know was that Nathaniel had a middle name. It was 'party-pooper'.
"Hold onto my hand," he chided her, looking at the ginormous crowd ahead of us. "I don't want you getting lost."
Willow blinked at him incredulously, as if Nate's words were sounding Mandarin to her. You're lost, aren't you?
Let me remind you.
The Annual Winter Carnival.
Does that ring a bell?
At the behest of Princess Willow of the town of Nate-ville, we were now gracefully attending the beautifully decorated, s
