The Fair

Immediately following Sunday School, I took my two youngest children with me to The Fair. The shuttle bus ride was the highlight for my three-year old girl. My seven-year old begged to ride a few rides and I let him, despite my saying, "We are just going to see the animals. No rides."

My daughter rode her first kid-sized roller coaster and she did not enjoy it. I cradled her as we whipped around and around, six times, I counted. Each time we passed the carnival worker, I'd beg silently, Please, please, stop this thing! Out loud, into my daughter's ear, I'd say, "You're doing great! We're almost done!" She didn't cry, but she wasn't thrilled, either. I wasn't thrilled to see the carnival worker pressing a flannel cloth to his nose. What sort of contagious disease did that guy have, anyway?

My son rode three or four rides and confessed afterward that he didn't actually like "The Kamikaze," a contraption that swings two boat-like cars back and forth and finally, completely around, upside down. He's such a trooper--he rode the rides by himself because I couldn't leave his sister.

But before the rides, we passed through the livestock barns. My three-year old hopped and clapped at the sight of one cow behind after another. She greeted the goats, sheep, turkeys, zebras, and horses with equal enthusiasm.

All told, we were at The Fair for two and a half hours.

I spent the remainder of the afternoon cleaning up my twin boys' room. I took a Sharpie marker and labeled their dresser drawers so they can more easily find and put away their clothes. Both dressers were garage sale finds, so I wrote directly on the drawers. My daughter watched me do that and I just hope she doesn't think my actions give her license to write on the furniture, too.

While I was cleaning the boys' room, my kids were busy wreaking havoc in other rooms.

Yesterday, I took my daughter to the grocery store, which she completely adores. She picked out a small pumpkin to take home, a "sugar" pumpkin meant to be baked and used in cooking. She cradled that pumpkin all the way home and after a few blocks said, "I want some treats in my pumpkin."

The child remembers last year's trick-or-treating, apparently. I find it so strange that small children can remember things from the distant past. She still remembers the cat we had when she was a baby. It was a black cat named Shadow and he ran away (we figure) when she was about eighteen months old. One day, months later, we were walking on a bright sunny day and I said, "Look at your shadow!" She looked around and wanted to know where the cat was. It took me a few minutes to realize what she was talking about.