“What about rides?” she asks as she gets down from her chair. “Rides, right?”
“A bunch of them,” I say. “Make sure you put on your walking shoes. We’ll be doing lots of walking and Logan isn’t carrying you.”
“We’ll see!” she yells as she runs off to her room.
“You’re not carrying her.” I turn to him, only to fi
nd him grinning from ear to ear.
“She’s lighter than my Rucksack.” He puts his hands up in the air. I know I’ve lost this battle before it’s even begun.
As soon as Evelyn’s ready to go, we pile into Logan’s truck, which she declares is much cooler than mom’s car. I think she likes it because he has to lift her up into it and she can see everything when she’s up high. Not to mention he lets her play with the windows, which is something I won’t let her do.
The drive to the fairground takes about forty-five minutes and during this time, Evelyn asks if we’re there yet, approximately twenty-eight point five times. I grow tired of the question and cut her off half way through her last one, telling her Logan will turn around and go home if she asks again. Surprisingly, this works in my favor, although I expect her to call my bluff.
And of course, as soon as Logan parks and opens the door for Evelyn, he turns so she can hop on his back. I half expect my daughter to stick her tongue out at me for getting her way.
“This place is amazing,” she says after we get our tickets. “There’s so much to do.”
“It’s a complete sensory overload,” I say quietly to Logan. He winks and hikes Evelyn up higher onto his back. “Why don’t you walk for a bit? Logan will carry you when you’re tired.”
“Promise, Logan?”
“Have I ever broken a promise to you?”
She shakes her head, slides down his back and reaches for both our hands. We decide to start with the crafts, to see what everyone has brought to sell. We sample jams, mustards, and other homemade foods. Logan tries to convince me that I need the newest knife set that will cut through a tree, and Evelyn is convinced she needs every piece of jewelry she can touch.
It’s when we get to the food trucks that I’m truly happy. Fried dough, deep fried Oreo’s, corn dogs… there’s a method to my madness, it’s all stuff I won’t eat at home, but at the fair it’s fair game.
Speaking of games, each time we see one, Logan wants to play. The three-point shooting game is an epic fail, however, he wins the hammer one on his first try, earning a stuffed dog for Evelyn. I call veto when he tries to win a fish unless he plans to take it back to base. This starts a whole round of ‘Can we get a dog?’ questions from Evelyn. And when we come to the game where I can shoot the clown in the mouth, I happily slap money down.
Evelyn sits between Logan and me. The three of us are poised, our water guns are aimed, and we’re ready to blow up the balloon. This game and darts are really the only ones I’m good at.
The buzzer sounds and I’m squeezing the trigger, wishing that the water would come out faster. When the alarm sounds, I look up to see if my light is spinning. It is!
“Woohoo!” I stand and start jumping up and down, much to Evelyn’s dismay. I don’t let it deter me and continue to dance as if I’ve the lottery.
“Mommy, you have to pick your prize.” I tell the young guy working that I’ll take the elephant.
As we leave the game, Evelyn takes my hand. She rubs her face against my arm and looks at up. “Mommy?” she asks sweetly.
I crouch down so we’re eye level. I’m a master at her game and pretend to have concern for her right now. “What’s wrong, sweetie? Do you have an upset tummy? Are you tired?”
“No,” she says, falling into me. “Do you love me?”
Logan laughs loud enough for us to hear him. “You know I do.”
She falls more into my arms. “Can I have your elephant?” she whispers into my ear.
I stand, forcing her upright. I have every intention of giving her the stuffed animal but now that she’s trying to guilt me into it, I’m going to torture her a little first.
“I won this. He’s mine.”
She drops her head, but not before I see her lower lip jut out. “Okay, I’ll be happy with the doggie that Logan won for me, but maybe your elephant and my doggie can be friends?”
“I think my elephant would like that.”
Her sour mood lasts a whole five seconds when we enter the ride area. Logan buys a book of tickets that costs more than a week of groceries. We wait in line with Evelyn so she can ride the motorcycles. Once it’s her turn, Logan secures her on the seat and comes out to stand next to me.