Rodeo

This last weekend we attended a fair and rodeo in the town where I grew up. Two words: Rural. Idaho.
We looked at the 4-H animals, ate some food, and watched the rodeo.  Caroline (3) had a hard time watching the rodeo, so Dan ended up taking her to ride the Ferris wheel at the carnival. That ride cost $8. Really. I'm in the process of buying my own Ferris wheel 'cause we are in the wrong business. Except Dan would have to shrink about a foot in height, smoke a cigar, and call everyone, "shweetheart." And never bathe. Hmm. Let me rethink that one.

The Rodeo was good. Except for the crowded conditions. And the lack of back rests. And the screaming, restless children I call mine. But Pierce (6) got to see real, live cowboys. At the fair, Charlotte (2) got to see pigs in an up-in-your-face kinda way, which did not go over well. She started shaking and yelling.  But I saved her. Hey, when you're only a couple of feet tall, and so is the pig, well.... this stuff happens. And it did. The place reeked, so we didn't dwell for too long. We chalked the whole thing up to experience.  As in, "this is where your bacon comes from," experience. Shocking to kids, but your meat once grunted. And moo-ed, and baa-ed, and clucked. See, experience. I now have a houseful of vegetarians.

This trip is an annual one for us. We make the 3 1/2 hour drive just to see guys bounce on the back of horses and bulls. Somehow we find that entertaining.

And we look forward to it every year.