County Fair

 

After more than an hour of hunting for two matching shoes in a child’s size 8 (or 9 or 10, just make them match please!), I pushed four kids out the door. I locked it. Deep breaths were taken followed by a ninety second pedicure. I opened the door and blinked. The number of kids had doubled.

We live close enough to the fairgrounds to walk and so we do. We like to say it’s fun. When it’s 88 degrees Fahrenheit and 100 percent humidity and the tarred road is sticking to our shoes with every step we say nothing. Just keep walking. We kept walking. By the time we reached the next door neighbor’s drive the kids had tripled. Another fell in with us at the end of the street. They were like bees swarming toward the entrance, but once we paid they separated and went their own ways. My sister and I took the smallest ones to the kiddie rides. We stood watching while our children spun round and round in giant red apples. I was holding her baby – affectionately known as Mealworm – wondering why apples. It’s an Alice in Wonderland feel putting your child in a giant apple and watching that apple lurch and spin away. It made me dizzy. Sweat ran down my back and my hair clung to my face. Mealworm poked me in the eye. This is the moment my high school boyfriend chose to step forward and say hello. Lovely. The last time I ran into him I was enormously pregnant and wearing flip-flops in February. He asked politely what I’d been up to and I burst out laughing. So much for dignity.

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2 Comments

  1. Wendi said,

    August 6, 2009 at 7:58 am

    I’m sure you handled it with your usual grace and charm ; )

  2. Anonymous said,

    August 8, 2009 at 8:18 am

    “Wearing flip-flops in February” LOL! Nothing dignified about pregnancy!


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