All's Fair

It’s funny how everything seemed SO MUCH bigger when we were little.

Actually, things ARE bigger, but there are certain memories of certain things that were probably exaggerated because of the excitement surrounding them.

Things like the fair. My memory of the fair is all around the biggest rides in the universe and the best food one could ever eat. Cotton candy and big, tasty burgers. Visiting the fair for the first time with Finley, I could see how my imagination had been a little creative. Over the course of 30 or so years since I last freely enjoyed a fair, rides have changed, food has change, and yes, the prices have changed.

We decided to challenge the weather and head out for a late-afternoon at the Evergreen State Fair, just up the road in Monroe. Parking cost as much as admission but Finley got in for free. We had planned to check out the animal exhibits and a few of the kiddy rides and perhaps sample some fair fare. And smack dab in the middle of the entrance was the first thing to catch Finley’s eye. The pony rides.

Six bucks to strap her into a toddler-sized saddle and have her go round and round a ten-foot ring... Of course, we could pay an extra twelve dollars for a photograph of the munchkin on board “Whisper” (Fifteen for a keychain).

She absolutely loved it. Well, I should say she loved it when it was over. Since it was her first pony ride, there was a bit of excitement about actually being on a pony, mixed with the terror of actually being on a pony. She didn’t get upset; she just had this look that I imagined her thinking, “I think this is fun. When does this end?”

A short walk later, we found ourselves in the middle of kiddy ride central, land of the one dollar tickets. The average ride took three tickets and I immediately decided a quarter for a horse outside Fred Meyer wasn’t so bad, after all.

There was also a height requirement. Luckily, Finley had sprouted a few inches lately and with her pony tails in the proper location, she should be able to pass the 36-inch rule. Then again, none of the quality folks running the rides seemed to care to check, anyway.

We basically stuck to two rides… The cars and the merry-go-round. They were both – basic terms – the same ride. Except one was horses and the other was cars. The steering wheels seemed to hold more fascination, so that’s where we ended up most of the time. Of course, she would remind us each time as she zipped past us that she was off to work and that she would see us later.

Then it was off to find out what was available in the food department. It turns out, what I remember of fair food has exploded to include many more cultures and appetites. From tacos and pizza to piroshkies and deep-fried Oreos. All of which – my adult mind has decided – probably leave the same feeling in your gut as every other edible item there. Finley had the pizza and I was glad we had already done a round of rides. But it wasn’t until after dinner that we would stumble upon the most memorable moment of Finley’s first fair.

We wandered over to the animal barns and had some glimpses of all kinds of rabbits and birds and even spent some time in the petting zoo, almost not being afraid of baby goats, cows, turkeys, and pigs. Next door, though, there was judging going on. In a large pen about half the size of a football field, were about two dozen bulls being poked and prodded and shown for ribbons of every size and color. Of course, Finley was mesmerized by the sheer size of the beasts. In her mind - I’m sure - those were the biggest dogs she’d ever seen. But, what made our trip to the fair was what one, and then a couple of cows decided to do as she watched.

As I think about it, I’m actually kind of surprised we didn’t see something like this earlier in the day, but, cows make pies and bulls make big cow pies. And for a two year old, seeing a few bulls go doody, not only blows the mind, it’s fodder for talk for the next few hours.

Even after another trip around the race car ride and after being locked in daddy’s race car for the ride home, she was happily reminding us about how the cow went poopy. I tried to play it off as a lesson and explain to her how the cow wasn’t going to get a bike because he didn’t go poopy in the potty. I don’t think she really cared.

So, as she looks back on her first fair, I’m sure her mind will exaggerate the size of the pony, the speed of the race car ride and the amount of poop from the world’s largest cow. I’m also sure this is only the beginning of the child fascination with gross things. I know there are years ahead of us where bugs, and gooey games and toys will fill the house. Which is fine with me. Heather, on the other hand, I’m not so sure. She’s much, much, much (did I say much) more of a neat freak than I am and I’m betting that when that time comes, I’ll be forced to both clean everything up and take everything outside.

I’ll be the one to teach Finley how to bait the hook and clean the fish and all the other tom boy things. Fine with me.

Because I’m sure not the one to teach her how to paint her toes (see below for what happens when Finley decides to do that on her own)

or shop for shoes or apply makeup. It all evens out. Heather gets her stuff and I get mine. I have a feeling I’ll only be able to ride the gross wagon for a few years before the girly stuff kicks in. I’d better plan another trip to the fair and a front row seat at the bull judging.