I took my kids, ages 4 and 2, to the circus Saturday. Jessica stayed at home because she "tore her ACL," "needed surgery" and "couldn't move while drugged up and suffering constant, immense pain." Read between the lines, though. CRAZYcoughcoughIRRATIONALcoughANIMALLOVER.
I'm sure I appeared to be a weekend divorced dad. Why else would a dude take his two tiny kids to the circus alone? And while we're asking questions, why do circuses still exist in 2011? How does the ringmaster find such talented people willing to live what must be such tough existences? They surely don't make much money and have to risk their lives constantly while traveling to sweaty little towns to perform in front of audiences who secretly hope they fall off their trapezes. The ringmaster must have compromising photos of everyone, including the elephants.
I guess the trapeze-swinging horses getting shot out of cannons through flaming hoops made of burning tigers were impressive enough, but the acrobatics and daring it took to corral those little monsters in the space of two seats met and surpassed anything Barnum & Bailey executed on the arena floor. Sworn enemies of one another, the kids elbowed, gouged and whined against one another for space on my lap throughout the 750-hour performance.
We left for three bathroom breaks, collectively drank two sodas and a bottled water, ran up and down the stairs during the intermission and somehow decided together that we did not need to spend $20 on a flashing sword or $12 cotton candy.
Most of the time Emma stared at the baby sitting next to us, while Luke peppered me with questions about whether the people were seeing were real or robots. We were loud and obnoxious, but no more so than anyone sitting around us. Thus, we didn't really bother anybody. Well, possibly except for the family sitting in front of us who retreated to the empty row in front of them. But maybe, just maybe, they moved because they wanted a closer view and not because they were sick of getting their seats kicked by 4, 2 and 32 year olds. Yeah, let's just go with that.