Our State Fair Is A Great State Fair

One of the great things about living in Dallas is being able to attend the State Fair each year.

Chris, Charlotte, and Jackson are coming up Friday night to spend the weekend with us like they usually do each October. So, Saturday will be a full day of gorging on fried cheesecake, corndogs, funnel cakes, and anything else I can get my grubby hands on. In anticipation, here are some of my favorite stories from the State Fair:

Several years ago, a group of our work friends met at Cyndi's Restaurant for an early breakfast before heading over to Fair Park. There were about 8 of us seated at a circular table with the syrups and coffee and juices in the middle. After the pancakes were served, the girl sitting next to me reached for the coffee server, which looked suspiciously like the syrup server. As somebody else on the opposite side of the table was telling a story and, luckily, drawing attention away from this girl, she started to tip the coffee server directly over her pancakes. I started to ask her why she would soak her pancakes with coffee but then suddenly remembered the story from To Kill A Mockingbird when Scout rudely pointed out that Walter Cunnningham poured syrup over his vegetables. I didn't want to embarrass my friend so I kept quiet and kept to myself. Well, she had poured about a third of a cup of coffee all over her pancakes before she noticed and blurted out, "This isn't syrup! It's coffee!!!" To this day, I can't eat pancakes without thinking of that story.

Last year, Chris and Charlotte and Jackson came up from San Marcos and went to the Fair With us. As we were walking the Midway, a barker noticed Jackson tugging at his dad's shorts and pointing at the basketball hoops. Chris might as well have handed the carnie his debit card and told him the PIN. Jackson got a couple of dollars for a few shots that looked rather impossible to make. The circumference of the basketball looked to be larger than that of the hoop itself. Instead, little Steve Kerr made his shots and got a cheap picture or some trinket or something. But, for a few more dollars and more made shots, he could potentially win a Mavericks basketball. Well, he drained this shots and got the ball. I think he slept with the ball for the next several weeks and always took it to school so he could dribble it between his legs while he waited to be picked up.

When we loaded up the cars to go to last years Fair, we had to take two cars because Chris and Charlotte were going back to San Marcos from downtown. However, Jackson wanted to ride in the same car with me and Melissa. So, we had to transfer his car seat into our car. No biggie. As we were headed to Fair Park, we put in an old 80's rap cd. Chris had mentioned that Jackson would dance around in his car seat to good music. Since the great thing about having kids is making them do stuff for your own amusement, this was our chance for some cheap laughs at my nephew's expense.

Well, one of the songs was "Parents Just Don't Understand". Melissa asked Jackson if it was true that parents just don't understand kids. Jackson got a very serious look that I've only seen him make. It's almost like he's looking beyond reality into anther dimension; his brows furrow a bit and his eyes narrow and look up. After a moment of pondering he said, "No, my parents understand everything." It was warm enough to melt butter on a freezing day in Wisconsin.