Magic and Mischief at the Wayside Hotel

“But, Mom, but, Mooooommmm.”

Josie pushed opened the door to the lobby and Amos ran past her, his face red with frustration, tears in his eyes.

This morning it had been freezing, the snow from yesterday’s blizzard measuring at least two feet. Josie had been held up at work, so Amos had to sit in the Oak Room at school, where the kids whose parents worked late were housed.

The teacher, Miss Monica, was wonderful, but Amos was the only “big” kid there. A handful of three-year-olds decided he was a monster and ran around screaming every time he moved, and it put him in a shitty mood.