The local Union Fair was in full swing this past week. Country fairs offer bright lights, music, unique scents, sights, and tastes—something to anticipate all year but enjoy for only a brief window.
Chris was excited to take the Owlet to her very first fair. The weather was sizzling hot, but we decided to give it a go. Rachel wanted to join us, so she and both girls came along. She strapped the baby to her chest, and I pushed the Owlet in her stroller. She pointed excitedly at all the rides, "Look at THAT!" We all anticipated seeing her ride on the carousel or maybe in the big tea cups. She wanted none of them. She was interested in the ball pit and spent a long time sitting neck-deep in the colorful ocean of plastic orbs. Other kids came and went, and she stared at them with great fascination, but mostly, she was just happy to be there.
She also liked the cows. There was a long shed filled with braces of steers, mostly lounging in deep bedding, chewing their cuds. She had us go back multiple times. "Where cows go?" she'd ask. We'd push the stroller to see them. It made her happy.
We offered a tasty fair-food corn dog, "I no eat that. That yucky." She slowly ate a bowl of chocolate ice cream while it melted in the blazing heat. Lots of it ended up on her clothes, skin, stroller, and all over the adults who tried to clean her up. It was sticky joy. Both girls were hot, tired, and fretful by the time we got back to our cars. I felt sorry for Rachel, who had to take them home for a cool bath and naps, but she was, as always, totally competent and got the job done.
We often keep the Owlet for what we call "Saturday Night Spend the Night." She seems to enjoy it and has the whole schedule of the evening planned. It goes something like this, "I stay Lovie Pop Pop Flirty Bravo. Read Each Peach Pear Plum. Read Llama Llama Red Pajama. Sing ABC, Blue Skies Rainbows. Snuggle." Rachel delivered her as planned, pajama-clad and ready for all she had described above. We asked what she wanted for supper, and she replied, "Chicken (which is what she calls any meat) and peas." Chris grilled some rib-eye steaks, and I served her a pile of peas which I thought I had way over-dished. She ate every bite. While she was here, she schooled me. Her pint-sized self looked up at the kitchen counter, which had a little weekend clutter, and said, "Lovie. Kitchen maken messen. You need clean up."
Excited by her stimulating day at the fair, she had difficulty sleeping. She finally succumbed but was bright-eyed at dawn. "Lovie, Lovie, Lovie!" Wee hands patted my face. I opened my eyes and saw her, all curls, rosy cheeks, and happy spirit. This child brings that fair feeling to every day. I know I only get to enjoy this phase for a short window. I cherish every sweet, sticky moment.
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