Last week, Caroline and I went shopping to buy her some new cowboy boots, or as she kept reminding me cowGIRL boots. It is rodeo time, and according to Texas state law all children attending the rodeo must have boots. And big cowboy hats.
As we drove home I said, “Man, those pink boots sure are going to make the rodeo special!”
“Mama, the rodeo isn’t about us. It’s about our friends, and the cowboys, and God.”
It’s like the holy Texas trinity.
On Saturday we went to the rodeo with Gulley and her family. The plan was to meet Gulley at her house at 11:30 that morning, which was no problem for us because Caroline had her new boots on as soon as she got out of bed at 7:15 a.m. Fortunately, I convinced her to crawl in bed with me, boots and all, and watch “Dora the Explorer” for about 45 more minutes. It would have been a lovely, leisurely way to spend the morning other than having a cowgirl boot continually wedged between my neck and shoulder while being grilled about “What time are we leaving? Is it time yet? Can we go now?”
Eventually, it was finally time to go so I loaded up Nicole Richie and we headed to Gulley’s.
She looked fierce.
But remember, the rodeo isn’t about us. It’s about friends, and cowboys, and God.
On the way to Gulley’s, I said, “When the rodeo starts we can yell YEE-HAW and RIDE ‘EM COWBOY and WHOO-HOO!”
She said, “Mama, please don’t say any of that.”
I have a feeling her adolescent years are going to be chockfull of times where she is completely mortified by my behavior.
Caroline and Jackson were so happy to be together and on their way to the rodeo.
The experience of trying to get them all in a picture was not unlike herding a group of rabid cats.
We finally made it down to the AT&T center where we were greeted with the sweet, sweet smell of a place that has large quantities of livestock in one location. Since it was almost time for the rodeo to start, we didn’t have time to walk around the stockyards so we went right inside. I bought Caroline and I each a $5.00 hot dog and a $4.00 bottle of water. It was $18.00 plus tax that was well spent, especially because there was absolutely no price gouging going on.
In fact, the hot dog was a bargain compared to the coin we shelled out on cotton candy. But obviously cotton candy has to be expensive because it’s air and sugar. The price of air is sky-high right now.
But those smiles almost made it totally worth it.
Almost.
We sat back and watched the fireworks, the bull-riding, the barrel-racing and the rodeo clowns. The kids clapped and cheered. Caroline might have even yelled a few “Yee-Haws!” after she got in the spirit of the event. I know I did because I like to be authentic.
Look y’all. Pictures of bulls and rodeo stuff.
And confirmation that I am not a photographer in spite of the fabulous picture I took of Caroline’s face in the bubble bath. A picture that, by the way, I will have blown up and framed to serve as proof of that one time I took a good picture.
Alan Jackson performed and if he had been any more laidback, he would have been asleep. Speaking of sleep, that’s what Gulley’s boys did. They fell asleep. At the rodeo.
Guess who didn’t fall asleep?
Guess who kept asking when it was going to be over and kept begging to go ride the ponies?
I finally told Gulley that we’d ride the ponies after the show was over but could she please be quiet so I could hear Alan Jackson sing.
After his performance we went out to the stockyards.
Caroline was so excited to see the Pillsbury Doughboy. After all the cookie dough we’ve eaten in this house, it was like seeing an old, familiar friend.
Finally, it was time for the pony rides.
And we’re doing it all over again tomorrow night.
But this time I’m eating a corn dog and a funnel cake.
Because the rodeo isn’t about new pink boots. It’s about friends, and cowboys, and God.
And what can make you feel closer to God than dough that’s been deep-fried and covered in powdered sugar?