I am pretty staunchly an Avid Indoorswoman. I do prefer to enjoy The Nature from behind the safety of walls and windows, but on occasion, I do venture out. Everyone needs a little vitamin D, right?
Since the Tall, Dark, and Slightly Neanderthal Fellow I married was helping out at the Scout set-up (and being highly decorative in the process), we decided to drive down to the Fair with him, and take in the sights.
(I’m still a bit of a swoony romantic over the swaying kilt pleats. And he has very good legs.)
Before assuming his duties in Scouting land, we had to hit the fairway and the utterly, immorally expensive rides. I opted to go with Willing Suspension of Disbelief in order to cope. Luckily, I have children who are happy to enjoy just a few rides, and not fuss. I like them a lot.
I think the Spicy Child’s expression really captures the overall feeling of the little girls:
Eldest and The Boy, being Brave Minions, decided to try out something called “Footloose”, which ought more properly be called “Pendulum of DOOM” (insert appropriate thunderclap here). Still, The Boy is always ready with a joke to keep his big sister brave along with him.
Sometimes, however, post-ride assessments vary from mid-ride snapshots:
Still, my brave Eldest survived the Pendulum of DOOM.
Next up, junior rides that are appropriately exciting for little left-handed girls of 2.5:
Even big sisters like the carousel, and they had a “horse” that looked just like Fluffy (which we did not get to ride, because some other kid beat us to it in the mad rush for seats. Carousels are not for the faint of heart, I tell you. Those short kids play dirty.)
Then, good old caring Mom made a drastic mistake: she gave The Boy permission to take another round of glory on the Pendulum of DOOM, and sort of talked the Eldest into taking Spicy on the one ride that Spicy wanted to go on more than anything else on the fairway: The Ferris Wheel, beloved of fair-goers everywhere!
Things started out pretty well in Gondola Number Five:
There was even a brief round of pointing out the amazing sights to be seen from such a wonderful vantage point as Gondola Number Five:
Then Gondola Number Five took one trip over the top, and the rest of the three minutes looked pretty much like this:
I am pretty sure Eldest has not yet forgiven me, and it’s three days later. She said as the whole assembly creaked its way over the summit, she realized that, unlike on the Pendulum of DOOM, where there were multiple restraints and straps and bars, Death Gondola Number Five had only a puny strap and minuscule grab bar, and that any errant motion might well spill them both out to a splattery death far below.
It’s good that she doesn’t overreact to things.
We quickly removed from the rides area, and retreated for sustenance. This was also met with at least one dubious look, but she just wanted fried stuff on a stick, so we ignored her.
From there, it was a happy tour through the animal areas. My children are pretty much convinced we should get a goat (just a small one, Mom) as companion to our four little hens and one slightly odd duck.
I think they’re trying to get out of mowing the lawn, and don’t quite realize how nasty goat poo can be. However, a small goat might solve our pesky “What to do with all these product labels?” question.
An Official Not-Molly Small Goat, Rebelling In Very Small Ways: Rebel Against Labels.