I'm not kidding. We literally travel in a huge circle around the grand stands when we go to the fair. It takes us all day. (Although, we make several trips to the food court that disrupted our circular pattern.)
Our sojourn to the fair does not include buying a lot of junk, riding rides, (This did come up as a major concern for the first time with the kids) or exorbitant purchases. We go to the fair to see strange things, strange people, and to eat a lot of really unhealthy food. We also go to bond as a family, to get some cotton candy, and to walk in a really big circle.
Just through the turnstile and ready to go
The first thing that we did is visit the commercial buildings. We meandered through the merchandise, the orderly stalls, and the sales people barking their wares and hoping to catch the passers-by in a moment of weakness. Some merchants are better than others. We passed by sewing machines that sew automatically, stacks of miracle cleaning solutions, plush toys and chintzy plastic do-dads from China, animal skins, Native crafts and jewelry, cooking accouterments, (I hyperlinked the definition, look it up. Not in the urban dictionary, Jenny) and the famous Culligan Man filtered water booth with the twelve foot high water facet fountain were they hand out the paper head bands and colored feathers. The kids emerge with all kinds of merch and junk that we will carry for rest of the day looking like Indians from some technicolor nightmare, and we, I, exit hungry right into the lap of delicious pleasure that the fair can dish up: the food court.
Jesse waiting for food in a shady place
Griffin located where the bathrooms are on the map
We go to the animal exhibits next and give the kiddos a chance to pet the animals. This year Sarahmay didn't kiss any, and I was genuinely surprised that all of them behaved really well.
Sarahmay posing with the ducks
Jesse with a ram (Go Rams!)
While we were walking passed the draft horses, Griffin had gone too close to the horses' back sides. I raised my voice a little to get his attention and said "Griffin, come back here." I may have said it a little too loud, but when he moved back toward me, I began to explain to him why one cannot just approach a horse from behind like that.
(For those of you not regularly around horses, you can spook the animal and it will kick. Believe me, you do not want to be on the receiving end of such a kick.)
A Mennonite woman came up to me and thanked me for being such a good dad. Now, I'm not sure that praise was merited and I tried to tell her so. She explained to me that she sees a lot of people in that area just yell at their kids to move without any calm explanation why. She said that she was happy to see that after the excitement of my raised voice, I took my child and explained what could have happened.
Jesse with a draft horse named Jesse
Jesse found these horses and said, "Hey, that horse has the same name as me. He showed an affinity for them, especially Jesse, because of their shared identity.
The squirrel is up there
After the animal exhibits, we crossed the thoroughfare and found another less-crowded spot to rest at. It was a small ally between exhibits with a tree and some grass. The kids took off their backpacks and walked around a little. As I was helping Griffin take his water bottle out, something fell right onto the balloon that was tied to the backpack. It fell right in front of my face, and it was big. Then at Griffins feet there was a dusty little struggle and a mad scrambling to the tree. It was a squirrel that had fallen out the the tree right on Griffin's bag and his balloon. We thought it was pretty cool. So cool that we had Griffin pose in front of the tree. I started to tell my brother-in-law until we noticed that his four-year-old was missing. He disappeared in an instant as little kids can in very crowded places. We dashed around and scrambled through the crowd in a similar way to the squirrel's: mad panic and worry. We found him about 50 yards away playing in the dirt and eating his ice-cream. It was a close call, too close. (Oh yeah, My sister-in-law was almost attacked by a charging macaw. She says that it could smell her fear).
Jesse and the Ginger Snap being weird
We went to the art exhibits and enjoyed several trips to the bathroom while we sat in the 4-H exhibit waiting for the Lego Wars to start. We did a fair amount of posing to keep from boredom.
Need I say more?
While waiting, the mascot of the fair, Happy, came into the exhibit. Of course the kids flocked around him and that made me nervous. (Who really knows what my kids and The Brothers will do?) So, instead of regulating them like a responsible adult, I grabbed my camera to document what would inevitably occur.
They were supposed to pose with Happy
Not give him a tonsillectomy
They attacked him.
Lego Wars
Eventually, Lego Wars started and the kids left that poor mascot alone.
Looking back on this circular trip through the fair, I realize that it marked the first blog post that I ever posted. Originally, I set out to write all year long and record the moments that came to me while I tried to raise my three heathens and acted as a good example to many others. I may have failed many times, but I have learned a few things. It's easy to start a circular journey and it's easy to end, but this journey of parenting is like several trips around the fair. Full of spectacular sights and funny occurrences, but there is no end to the journey and many trips to the food court (and the bathroom).
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