At some point during the holiday weekend, I decided it would be fun to take Caroline to the circus.
I had really good reasons at the time, but I have long since forgotten what they were.
On Sunday afternoon, we headed down to the Alamodome to see the circus. I didn’t buy tickets in advance because, like I said, it was a spur of the moment decision.
One that I immediately began to regret as we stood broiling in the heat while waiting in line to buy tickets.
I actually held my purse over Caroline’s head to try and protect her from the sun. She was especially hot because she had decided to wear her jeans and cowboy boots, even though I had warned her that it is July. In Texas. Not necessarily cowboy boot weather.
But what do I know? I’ve only lived in Texas 32 years longer than she has.
We finally got our tickets and went inside where we were immediately inundated with a vast array of circus paraphernalia. Oh, P.T. Barnum was so right when he said there’s a sucker born every minute.
That’s the only explanation for cotton candy that costs $8.00.
Caroline seemed to enjoy the show even though she spent the first half like this because it was loud.
And the second half like this.
She couldn’t bear to watch Bello the clown climb the 30 foot pole.
The highlight for me was this moment.
When P and I got engaged eleven years ago, he wouldn’t smile for our engagement pictures with his teeth showing because he thought it looked stupid.
How far we have come.
After the circus was over, we filed out of the arena with 15,000 other circus afficionados. It was a cultured crowd.
There were all manner of blinking clown noses, light up swords, and flashing elephant cups.
Caroline wanted a blinking clown nose. A blinking clown nose that cost $10.00. We said no.
She pouted.
I explained that we’d had a nice time, but we’d bought cotton candy, popcorn and lemonade for a grand total that was somewhere in the range of our monthly mortgage payment. As a matter of principle I couldn’t bring myself to pay $10.00 for a blinking nose that would get buried among all the other junk in the playroom.
Oh P.T. Barnum, I am wise to you.
After a marathon walk in the heat to our car, a walk, by the way, where I carried Caroline a large part of the distance because her cowboy boots weren’t comfortable (SHOCKING!), we got in a long line of traffic to get out of the parking lot.
I asked Caroline if she had fun at the circus.
She replied, “Not really. I wanted a clown nose.”
Which was precisely the moment that my head shot out of the passenger window and burst into a million pieces.
I silently searched for the right words to say, while wanting to cry because I am clearly failing at the whole parenthood thing.
So I reminded her about the story of the ten lepers in the Bible. Jesus healed them all, but only one of them came back to say thank you. I told her how important it is to have a grateful heart and appreciate the things that you have been given.
I don’t know if any of it sunk in, but I feel certain that someday Caroline will know she should always act appreciative and grateful because, otherwise, Mama is going to start talking about the lepers.
When did I become this person?