Day 2…still
We found this random, obscure, completely perfect county fair while we were messing around in the calm portion of New York. County fairs are essential to your eternal salvation. I’ve no idea how–but I’m sure it’s true.
Of course, the first stop is anywhere where the guys can shoot something….anything.
And we can watch them and…clap.
Luckily, the other booths weren’t quite manly enough to get our guys’ attention—
because they wanted to save up all their primal caveman instincts for a ride like this.
You know, one that gives them the sensation that their brain matter is shooting out their nose.
No, no. I don’t get it either…but we watched…we clapped.
Help me understand why we even let these goof-balls drive, let alone be the president?
In my opinion, this is a more rational ride–floating through the air with your eyes closed—like you’re on an old fashioned rope swing—now that need I could respect. Hmmmmm….lovely.
Moving on to a few “firsts.”
First time for these human babies to meet these farm babies.
First time for them to have a helmet strapped on their heads–and by a pirate, no less.
First time to ride a real live pony. This little dude is a natural. He was so comfortable that he actually started falling asleep and tipping over.
Real fake pony ride–on the carousel–big first. They loved the music and kept trying to wave their hands and dance. Note to babies: No dancing on the Merry-go-round, and scaring Grammy half to death. Just hang onto the pole.
Sheesh.
Baby Chompy–bored with, or overwhelmed by all the fuss. This, however, is not a first.
Watching babies take a swirly ride in a big pink chicken–yeah, that was a first.
Watching their daddy—the dare devil of the entire, roller coaster universe—turn greener (is that a word?) and greener (I guess it is), with each round. Pretty funny first, although, I will admit–we were never quite sure if he was goofing around or ready to hurl.
Oh, the crazy lights…
the powdered sugar waffles…
the plethora of goats…
and the indescribable deep fried, peanut butter and jelly sandwich.
Oh. It. Was. Fabulous.
No, this is not a good time to tell me about the evils of fried food.
Fortunately–everyone knows that calories don’t count when you’re on vacation.
Good thing.
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