Guess what we did Tuesday night?
We went to the rodeo. Again.
And what can I say about the rodeo that hasn’t already been said? I’ll be completely honest.
Not a lot.
It feels a little bit like Go Western Week here at Big Mama, which if you’re not from Texas probably means nothing to you. But when I was growing up in Houston, we always had Go Western Week at our elementary school. Everyone would wear their best cowboy or cowgirl clothes and the highlight was an art contest.
I have no idea what the prize was for the art contest, but I remember entering it every year in hopes of winning. This was back before I came to terms with my lack of craft abilities. As a third grader I didn’t realize I was artistically challenged and just because I could conceptualize how cool it would look to make a ranch fence out of old popsicle sticks and use leftover Easter grass to simulate the rolling prairies, didn’t mean it would actually translate to my 11 x 16 poster board.
And even though Sheila Barker, who was completely obsessed with all things equine, had personally taught me how to draw a horse, didn’t mean I could actually draw a decent looking horse. You know, a horse that looked like a horse, as opposed to a big, brown dinosaur with an abnormally large head who was roaming through fields of Easter grass and towered above his popsicle stick enclosed pasture.
I can’t even talk about the year I thought it would be a good idea to use real yarn for his mane and tail.
So, now that I think about it, this isn’t really like Go Western Week at all because there will be no crafts. However, there has been much Western activity in these here parts.
Last night, we all got ready to head to the rodeo. Caroline has developed a deep love and appreciation for barrel-racing and couldn’t wait to go see those cowgirls ride their horses. Here she is waiting for our friends to come pick us up.
Not that she was anxious or anything.
And by the way, she tucked her jeans into her boots all by herself. I am so proud of her innate fashion sensibilities. I think she’s fashionally gifted.
Here she is after she asked if she could go wait in the backyard and I told her yes, as long as she didn’t get dirty.
So she decided to dig in the flower beds with a shovel because everyone knows that won’t get you dirty at all. Of course, other than her mother being anal, why did it matter if she got dirty? We were going to an arena filled with horses and horse poop.
And y’all don’t even want to know about the smell coming from the goat pens.
Here are my people right before we headed out the door.
I’m not entirely sure, but I think she may think her daddy hung the moon.
Rumor has it there was a time in P’s life where he always wore Wranglers and cowboy hats. And sometimes even spurs. I didn’t know him during this time so I can’t confirm the rumors, but I do have to say the hat agrees with him.
We got to the stockyards a little late, so we had to prioritize our activities to make sure we got to the arena before the rodeo started.
Priority #1 for the adults: Corndogs and fresh-squeezed lemonade. Because, hello, food.
Priority #1 for the kids: Pony rides.
Guess what we did?
And then we got corndogs. Oh my word, they were like heaven on a stick. There is something about a rodeo corndog that cannot be replicated by lesser corndog establishments. The batter is perfection.
Perfection.
Speaking of perfection, Caroline had herself some cotton candy. In her opinion it is the perfect food.
Especially when topped off with a lemon.
This created a substance similar to super glue all over her face that defied the powers of several wet paper towels. I’m hoping it will come off by the time she graduates from high school.
After watching all the rodeo festivities, we were tired and it was time to head home. But we made great memories.
And tomorrow, we’re going to go pick up crafty-type materials to make homemade Valentine’s Day cards. While we’re there I may pick up some popsicle sticks, poster board, and Easter grass to create an entire rodeo re-enactment.
Complete with horses that look like dinosaurs.