Some Pigs

I went to the fair yesterday.

I don't want to say it's been a long time since my last visit, but this might be the first time I've gone to the fair without a diaper bag.

But that's one of the great things about a state fair. What with the rides, the animals, the prizes and the overeating, we all feel like kids again. One of my daughters, who shall remain nameless, went ahead and threw a little tantrum for me, just for old time's sake. Come on, her feet hurt and her ice cream cone gave her a tummy ache. As I sat next to her on the bench and listened to her fuss, I noticed a dad heading toward the parking lot while hauling a screaming three-ish year old boy over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and suppressed a smile. At least I wouldn't have to carry my fussy young'n to the car.

And you know, as long as I'm complaining, can I just say that when I challenged myself to a three-month moratorium on sugar and carbs, I had no idea that I'd be going to the fair in two days. My all-time favorite yummy fair food - the blackberry ice cream waffle cone - was not only off limits, but I got to sip my Diet Pepsi in silent misery as my daughters ate theirs. 

Still, the day was a smashing success and I'd do it all again in a heartbeat for one simple reason.

Baby pigs

I love them with an irrational passion.

And twenty years after her first fearful encounter with the little darlings, so does my little girl.

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Here is another nice story about a pig, though this one is not quite so soft and pink.

This Little Piggy