Fair Experiences

It came today . . .The Fair book. Our town is known for its late September fair. It is all consuming for everyone in our town. In fact as we are selling our home, I think I should add a disclosure “Home includes requirement to attend and work local fair for 3 days in late September.” We grew up here so we knew what we were getting into, but someone from out of town could be caught off guard. Truly, the only way to avoid all that the fair entails is to leave town completely. As a homeschooler, the fair is wonderful diversion from the regular day. This is not just true of the actual fair days, but beginning with the arrival of the fair book.

For a week, the kids will flip through the pages back and forth trying to decide exactly what they want to enter. Then we have to send in the registration forms and beginning planning to get the projects done. Some projects can take weeks like paper mache and others can’t be done until the day before you drop them off. We won’t even discuss the fun of trying to drop them all off. In my brilliance last year, I decided that it would be easier without bringing the kids along - - -a clear example of not thinking a plan all the way through. Who did I think was going to carry all the stuff? Lego towers can get very heavy when you stand in line for 20 minutes.

The most embarrassing and funniest year of fair preparations was many years ago when my children were young, idealistic, and did not take disappointment well. I had set up the kitchen to work with one child at a time. I was only there to supervise and make sure that they did not replace flour with sugar or tablespoons for teaspoons. Poor dd waited patiently for her turn to cook, while her brother made oatmeal raisin cookies. She was very excited to make a layer cake. She carefully measured and cooked. Everything was ready to be put together. So I stepped in to carefully lay one cake atop the other – vump! The top layer went right on the floor – perfectly flat, perfectly on floor. She just looked at me. I knew I had cut it all too close and there was no time to do it again. I looked at her. I looked at the floor. I calculated how much dirt could have been on the floor, when it was washed last, and what other options I had. At the mere mention of not entering, tear welled in dd’s eyes. I looked at the cake again, scooped it up, and put it on the cake. (I know – gross, but you would be amazed what you would do for your children.) We delivered it on time. And to our great surprise, she took first place. Maybe we should throw all our meals on the floor.

So, off we are on our new fair adventures . . .I promise not to drop and serve another cake.