A Dad, A Mom, and Three Little Heathens

Originally Published Sept 2016 Griffin, Jesse, and their cousin Jaxton.  Little heathens in the heathen wagon. "Daddy can't drive, he can't, because he will fly out the window and the car will blow up," Sarahmay yells as I climb into the driver's seat. That's how the annual trip to the fair started. (I'm still not sure where she gets her inspiration for these comments about my driving. There is hope that I might avoid a future driving test with a decrepit DMV instructor. This evening when Sarah asked Sarahmay if she was excited to wear her backpack to school tomorrow she said, "No, I don't want to go to school, because, because, because, because, I will fall and hit my noggin and my hand will hit and get a cut." It's got to be all of the tragedy she is exposed to in Disney films.) Our state fair is a nice little fair as state fairs go. Compared to the enormous affairs of the East and Midwest, our fair is merely an excuse to go...

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...