Old Shawnee Days

After the firetrucks, we headed to Old Shawnee Days. Which is awesome.



And Mo took a picture of me and Em, and Em took a picture of me as well. And me, I took a ton of pictures. How could I not?





Money's tight, so I only brought $20 with me, and rides can be expensive at these things.






At one point, I thought they had their rides priced much more reasonably than the average fair circuit deal. We didn't get to ride nearly as many rides at Old Settler's Day last year, for instance. We did a lot of rides at Santa-Cali-Gon, but I'd been working some overtime and I brought more cash to that.










My $20 worth of tickets was really lasting. But then I realized it wasn't because Old Shawnee Days was bargain priced, it was because of puberty.



Em got an enormous pickle up her butt and no pickle extractor could take it out.





She refused to ride the Cliff Hanger, which Mo adored. She refused to go on the ferris wheel with me and Mo. She wouldn't ride the Ali Babba, and she wasn't interested in the Zero Gravity either.



She rode the elephant ride with Mo, and actually appeared happy for a minute, but that was it. Mo rode everything she could, and I went on a couple of the rides with her.



Waiting for the ferris wheel, when Em stomped over to a curb to sit down and pout, the woman behind me in line asked, 'Is she about eleven?'



Exactly, I said.

'I teach kids that age,' she said. 'Part of their brain just shuts down for a few years.'

The part, apparently, that has fun at a carnival. Bummer.

Oh, and apparently I'm a creep.



When I got on the Ali Babba with Mo, she picked the end seat in the back row. I sat down beside her, but then nobody could get in the back row. I was going to get up and let people by, but the quarters were tight, and a woman just climbed over me. Then another. Then her date. Then another.



Then a chick who was clearly grossed out at the thought that we might touch. And her boyfriend. She didn't say anything, but the look on her face said it. As if I'd sat there specifically so I could feel her thighs brush against my knees.



Is there ride etiquette? Or should the assheads who designed the ride have made it ten inches deeper and made it easier to board?

They had a ton of stuff we didn't get to take in, including Shooting Star. Somehow, Shooting Star playing Old Shawnee Days sounds even more depressing to me than the time I saw Steppenwolf play Worlds of Fun.



We topped off the day with a trip to the pool. Well, the 'aquatic center.' Which was fine until Mo decided it wasn't really time to go just because Daddy said so and ran from me, trying to get another ride down the water slides. Even climbing the stairs after I'd tracked her there and told her to come back down.



Dad got a little steamed up about that one.

Then we got home, and I had to take a dump. Urgently. And when I came out of the bathroom, Mo had headed out the back door.

I went looking frantically, including in the field she went to last time, and finally spotted her on a neighbor's deck. Without a stitch of clothing on. She'd peeled off the wet swimsuit the minute we got home, and hadn't bothered to dress before going exploring.





I didn't take pictures this time, just peeled off my shirt to try and cover her up on the way back in the house.

I swear, sometimes I need a helicopter and a tranquilizer gun to catch that kid, Wild Kingdom style.