A Fairly Good Day

This morning, my friend Christi and I took our kiddos to the free day at the Arkansas State Fair! We took them last year and had such a great time. I really, really love the fair--the atmosphere, the food, the promise that fall has arrived, and did I mention the food!?

Here's a picture of the cuties from last year:

Oh my, what a difference a year makes! Last year, we leisurely walked around the fair, chatting, eating great food, and our little angels were perfectly content to sit quietly in their strollers and take in the sights.

This year, the toddler wanted to ride every.dang.ride. I have to admit, I thought he wouldn't want to ride any of the rides! I told him we would do the Ferris wheel and we would go see the animals, but I wasn't prepared for a scream fest every time we walked by a ride! And the worst part? He wasn't tall enough for the rides! He was only a couple inches too short, but it shattered my Momma heart into a million trillion pieces. I mean, really, my nearly two-and-a-half year old can't ride on a train that moves at 2 mph in a 20' diameter circle!? Come on!

So, we rode on the carousel, and the toddler loved it!

Then, we took the kiddos to go pet and feed the animals. My little one has always been a major animal lover (completely ironic, if you know me or my husband), and I'm pretty sure he could have stayed in that nasty-smelling tent for hours! :)

We bought some carrots so the toddlers could feed them to the animals. They thought it was the coolest thing!

Being 7 1/2 months pregnant obviously prevented me from riding anything other than the carousel, and so we tried to steer the little ones away from the rides. But, alas, my child had already seen it: his dream ride. . . an enormous helicopter turning in circles and wheeling in the air. He went berserk. And then Christi, who is an angel disguised as a person, suggested we stand in the eternally-long line and that she would take the kids into the helicopter.

So we waited. And waited. And waited. And I spoke the same words, very sternly, over and over and over again, "Yes, you are going to ride on the helicopter. We are waiting. You have to wait." And after about thirty minutes, and several conversations about "this is why you don't take your two-and-a-half year old to Disney World," it was time for the helicopter ride!

Getting into the helicopter!

Super Mom! A toddler on each hip!

I will forever be grateful to Christi for taking my sweet boy on the ride he was just dying to ride on! And, of course, he loved it!

Then, it was time for purchasing some ridiculously-priced toys that the toddler just had to have: a red race car and a blue airplane!

After having his fill of animals, loud noises, rides, crowds, chaos, and toys, my child promptly lost it. I'm not exaggerating. He didn't go to bed last night until 11:30, and he was running into our room this morning at 6:15. It had caught up with him. "I want to go HOME!" he screamed, with tears running down his cheeks.

I went into panic mode. Why? Um, because I hadn't had ANY fair food yet, duh! Why do you think I ran by the ATM and took out $40.00 at 7:30 this morning for FREE day at the fair!?!?

So, we divided and conquered. Christi went after the corn dogs; I went after the jumbo bags of cotton candy.

After stuffing one jumbo bag under the stroller and securing the other one under the covering on the stroller, I ran to Christi, grabbed my corn dog, squirted mustard on it, said a 2 second goodbye, and sprinted through the crowds and for the exit. Yes, I was shoving a corn dog down my throat, pushing a screaming toddler wielding an enormous inflatable airplane all over the place, through the parking lot, darting in front of cars, up a very, very, very steep grass hill, and by the time we got to the car, I was just about ready to cry.

Do you ever feel like, "Why do I even try to do fun things for my child? It backfires every dang time!" Well, that's how I felt, as I watched my angel crying, with red cheeks, begging to go home.

But hey, I'm thinking next year will be way better, because the toddler will be tall enough to ride all the rides. And all of our pictures look really happy, right? And I'm pretty sure that's all he'll remember when he looks back through old family albums. (What I'll remember? That you can in fact sprint at 33 weeks pregnant, pushing a stroller with two popped wheels, and cramming a delicious corn dog into your mouth.)