Iowa State Fair '17: Just a Mess of Pictures

My buddy Rob gave me a real phone for my birthday, so I didn't take our old digital camera to the fair this year. The phone takes better pictures, but I'm still getting used to the timing. That's my excuse, anyway.

Daphne and I have a rule about eating at the fair: there are no rules. There are also no calories, no too much of a good thing, no diet, and no regrets. The ISF comes around once a year, and we make the best of it. 

We started out each day with a breakfast of fried cheese curds. (Remember our rule and judge not.)

Charlotte was excited to go farming at the "Little Hands on the Farm" exhibit. Pioneer donated a slew of hats for the kids to wear. Nice job, Pioneer. Turns out Char didn't care about the "farming". She just wanted the free Cheetos... 

Really Char? We have Cheetos at home.

Mazes are a big deal to our kid, so we spent a few minutes navigating this attraction.

"Ooh, look at the cutie pigs!" 

This picture doesn't look like it is a triumph, but Charlotte couldn't climb the ladder that lead to this spot on the playground last year. She tried a few times, but she got scared at the height and frustrated with number of kids cutting in front of her. This year she climbed it like a champ.

Like big mazes, Charlotte also enjoys big puzzles.

If I ever find one of the vintage egg-shaped chairs for a decent price, it is soooo going into our basement. I'm not even going to ask Daphne for permission. 

This stand bragged it had perfected the poutine that the Canadians had created, but I was skeptical. 

It was okay, but we have had much better poutine north of the 49th parallel.

The pork chop on the stick is always good, though. 

The sand castle was impressive. I kept wondering what would happen if it rained. I was told that they put a tarp over the castle when the forcast calls for that.

Charlotte loves cotton candy. It is the last she ate on Super Sunday.

While Char stuffed herself with melted sugar, I ate a good ol' hamburger, and Daphne had some grilled veggies on a bun. See ya next year, Iowa State Fair! 

Now it's time to start our diets again...

Put Some (Vanilla) Ice On It

Behold! The power of embarrassment.

We have been taking Charlotte to the skating rink on Wednesday afternoons. That's when Skate North has their dollar special. It's cheap entertainment. None of us are very comfortable on skates, so we rent a "skate mate" for Char to use. Luckily, parents can walk along in street shoes.

Char has been having trouble gaining momentum. We have been trying to get her to push off with her feet at an angle, but she usually just moves her skates forwards and backwards like she is on a Nordic Track.

This week she fell, and she fell hard. Her feet shot out in front of her, and she landed squarely on her tailbone. She and the skate mate were in a tangled mess. After a moment of silence, tears began to flow. 

She wanted to quit skating, but we were past the exit, so we had to finish the loop before getting off the floor. She soldiered on, but as she moved at a snail's pace, she quietly wept. Man, it hurts to watch your child cry.

That's when Vanilla Ice's "Ice Ice Baby" came booming out of the speakers. I don't know 95 percent of the songs they play at Skate North, but I know that one. And I knew what to do.

As soon as I heard Queen's bass riff, I jumped in front of Char. Facing her, I started dancing backwards and rapping along with Vanilla. 

It should be noted that I'm not good at dancing or rapping.

Her Nordic Track shuffle was forgotten. For the first time Charlotte was charging forward, and her skates were pumpin'. She was aimed at her dad - an embarrassment jumpin’. While I was lightin' up the stage and waxin' a chump like a candle, she was moving faster than we thought she could handle.

Her tears had dried, and her pout had turned into a scowl. She looked deadly. Like a dope melody.

She kept gaining speed, so I kept dancing backwards. I had to make sure I didn't lead her out into the middle where the traffic was bumper to bumper, and the avenue was packed. 

I had to slow down for a moment when three girls holding hands blocked my path. That’s when Char rammed me with her skate mate. She hit the bull’s eye. My kid don’t play. 

She yelled, "Daaad! Stop it!"

Did I stop? No! I just danced by.

Char regained her speed, and I didn’t want to break her stride. So, I kept kickin’ up my juice for another minute. When I finally stopped and let her off the hook, I was rammed by the skate mate again. I just laughed. Char had forgotten her spill. Parental embarrassment trumps sorrow! 

Thank you, Vanilla Ice!

We left the rink and took a break on a bench. Daphne kept telling Charlotte how well she had skated, and it was true. When we went back out, Char's speed and agility improved with every lap. By the time we left, Daphne told Charlotte, "I don't think you even need the skate mate anymore. I think we should try skating without it next time."

I agree. Char’s on a roll, and it's time to go solo.

PS: Our post-skate tradition is to celebrate at Planet Sub. I wouldn't recommend putting Cheetos in your peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but it was Charlotte's brand new invention.  Link