Around eight thirty, we make our way to the truck. Olivia has a hop in her step, and I can tell she’s in her element, feeling proud of her clothes. The tutu makes it hard to buckle her in her booster, but I manage.
When we arrive, the smell of fried food and sugar wafts through the air. Olivia skips toward the entrance as I hold her hand, and her eyes are as wide as saucers when we approach the ticket booth. I buy her an unlimited ride bracelet and a roll of tickets for the ones I can go on with her. I’m surprised so many people are here this early and laugh when I notice most of the kids are around Olivia’s age. Seems no parents got to sleep in this morning, not when carnival rides and sugar are involved.
“I love your outfit,” one of the teenagers who passes us says to Olivia.
“Thank you!” Olivia responds with an extra pep in her step.
We start off on the Ferris wheel, and she’s not a bit scared of how high it goes. After that, we go to a small train ride, and since it has no line, Olivia rides it at least ten times in a row. I love hearing her giggles as she waves at me. When she’s had enough of that one, we move to the next ride, and she makes new friends while we wait in line.
One of the moms chats with me as we watch the oversized teacups go round and round.
“That your daughter?” she asks.
I nod. I don’t think she’s from Eldorado because she doesn’t look familiar. Everyone knows everyone there.
“She’s adorable and full of spunk. I really like her style,” she says, biting down on her lower lip.
“Thank you.”
“I’m Jenny, by the way.” She holds out her hand, and I shake it. “And that’s my son, Parker.”
“I’m Connor and that’s my Olivia. She’s five and keeps me on my toes.”
Jenny giggles as a blush covers her cheeks. “Mine’s six and a handful.”
“From my experience, I think all kids are,” I say, keeping my eye on Olivia.
Jenny giggles and turns her head as Parker yells at her to watch him. Olivia blows me kisses, and I pretend to catch them.
Soon the ride comes to a stop, and Olivia says goodbye to her new friend as Jenny waves to me.
As we’re standing in line for oversized corndogs and homemade potato chips, I replay my interaction with Jenny and how I automatically close up when another woman starts a conversation with me. My responses make me wonder if I’ve been avoiding getting personal for so long that I’ve lost the ability to be personable.
After we get our food, Olivia and I sit at a picnic table under the pavilion.
“Daddy, can we go see the ponies after this?” Olivia asks with mustard on her cheek.
“Yes ma’am.” I grab a napkin and wipe her face. “We can also go see the goats, sheep, and alpacas.”
“Alpaca?” She scrunches her nose. “What’s that?”
“It’s a mammal. They kinda look like camels but without humps,” I explain.
She giggles. “Nuh-uh.”
“Yes-huh,” I say. “And you wanna know a secret?”
“What?” she whispers.
“Most people get them mixed up with llamas.”
“A llama?” Her voice goes up an octave. “What are those?”
“A mammal.” I laugh. “They’re like alpacas but with smaller legs and way furrier.”
“They sound cute! Can we get one, Daddy?”
Now I’m really laughing. “Which one?”
“Both!” She giggles, and when she finishes her chips, we make our way to the petting zoo. The line to ride the ponies is so long, Olivia gives up and begs to see the goats and sheep instead. When she finally spots the alpaca, her face lights up.
“Daddy!” She points. “There she is! Can we take her home?”
The woman overseeing the animals hears her ask me this and chuckles.
“I don’t think so, sweetie. I’m sure this nice lady here wants to bring Miss Paca home after the fair.”
Olivia looks at the woman, and she hands Olivia a small bag of feed. For at least twenty minutes, she remains awestruck by the alpaca. I have a feeling one of these might be added to her Christmas list, and I’ll be tempted to actually buy one.
After we’re done at the petting zoo, she plays a ton of games because I can’t tell Olivia no when she asks so sweetly, and she’s having so much fun. She fishes in the small pond, shoots hoops for a basketball game, and plays so many others that I lose count. I’m carrying at least three stuffed animals and all the other toys she wins.
Even though the lines are long and I’m melting in the heat, she refuses to leave until she gets on every ride one more time. Her favorite one is the super slide because she goes fast on the magic rug. Eventually, we eat again, and I can tell she’s getting tired. Though she’d stay here all day and night if I’d let her, I know it’s time to take her home. Olivia’s too exhausted to argue when I lead her to the truck.