Another Year, Another Corn Dog

Last night, I unbuckled a tired little girl from her car seat. Her hands and arms were sticky from melted Popsicles. Her body was covered with a layer of fine dust and grime. I picked her up because, "I too tired, Mommy" and carried her to the front door and unlocked in the dim glow of the porch light.

Joseph dragged his feet behind me, so exhausted his eyes were rimmed with a pale purple hue.

Chad carted in a bag filled with all the things one might need for an afternoon and evening in the heat followed by a cool evening - sunblock, water bottles, jackets, hand sanitizer. Lots of hand sanitizer.

And, of course, he held a bag of cinnamon rolls, still warm and nestled against containers of cream cheese icing.

Last night, we bid the fair a fond farewell until next year.

We took the kids three times. Three trips of carnival rides, hot pretzels topped with Parmesan cheese, nachos, churros, animals lined up in stalls, reptile houses, concerts, photo booths, and people watching.

From the first day when they jumped from foot to foot waiting for the ticket booth operator to put their wristbands on their already grimy hands to the last day when we slid down the giant slide not once, not twice, but three times, it was a blast.

I missed the deadline for jams and jellies this year, but got an honorable mention for one of my photos.

Elizabeth and Joseph got to pet and hold a tortoise and a corn snake. The handler assured us that yes, corn snakes are sold as pets and why no, you don't have to feed them live mice. You can just buy mouse-cicles. Because, you know, I totally want to keep a bucket of frozen mice in my freezer.

I shudder.

Joseph is still asking if I'm still thinking about getting a snake. I assure him I'm thinking very hard of reasons to keep saying no way, dude and still retain my cool mom points.

I do too have cool mom points!

We sat in swinging chairs, got my ring polished, and watched a man show us the sharpest knife to ever grace a kitchen. We wandered through exhibits looking for tin chicken signs and wondering if we should bedeck ourselves in glittering genuine gemstone jewelry.


And, in the end, we trudged home, with a little less money in our pockets, but big smiles on our faces. This morning, when Joseph ate his cinnamon roll for breakfast, he grinned and said, "I love eating a memory!"

Personally, I love drinking them in.