PT Barnum's Dream Girl

That would be me, the newest sucker for the circus. Steve and I took the boys to The Greatest Show on Earth today for their first time...and mine! Yes, folks, you heard right. My name is Alison. I'm 35 years old and have never been to the circus. My parents just never took us. I guess because there wasn't a block of seats big enough for all of our family. So I was super-excited to take the boys this year. (Libby stayed home with her best friend "Lella.")

We didn't tell the boys a thing about the circus for several reasons: A. It would be so fun to put them in the car, drive to the circus, and say, "Here's your surprise!" B. The forecast called for snow and ice, and we weren't sure if the show would go on. Might as well save the boys the possible disappointment. C. (Most importantly) We did not want to hear "Are we going to the circus today?" every day for a month.

Wouldn't you know we got all the snow and ice that was predicted, but we foolishly bravely headed out for the circus anyway...with two cheerful, happy, bubbling crying, whining boys who were upset about not getting to play in the snow. Keeping the circus a secret got less and less fun with each mile our car crept along. Definitely some interesting and convicting theological applications to be drawn there for another post.

BUT...the circus is a magical place (seriously, Mom and Dad, you should've taken us -- or at least foisted us off on some unsuspecting neighbor who was going). The boys quickly got over their grumbling. There was a really cool hands-on pre-show with a painting elephant and...wait, why am I telling you all this? You already know it because everyone else in the world has already been to the circus. (Abby, Jordan, Lindsay, Gwen, and Whitney -- call me. I will tell you of the many wonders we have been missing out on all these years.)

While I was fascinated by the animals, being 6 rows away from the floor where there were 12 baleful elephants being made to march around performing demeaning parlor tricks made me more than a little nervous. What, do they think that little piece of feathery string on a handle that they call a whip would stop one of those bad boys from starting a stampede? I won't lie. I spent most of the elephant act formulating a plan to save our family if 72,000+ pounds of pachyderm suddenly went postal and headed our way. It was a beautiful plan, if I do say so myself. I was relieved when the tiger act took place behind a chain-link fence. Kind of tacky but reassuring.

Next time (and there will be a next time -- I am sold on the circus), I want a few things to be different. I want Libby to be there. I would like not to have to drive 30 miles an hour through ice and snow to get there. I would prefer not to sit directly under the high wire act, which was rather unnerving because I could not come up with a plan to avoid a fast-falling unicycle, no matter how I racked my brain. And next time I'm packing a blow dart loaded for elephant. Because I know what those elephants were thinking. I'm not that big a sucker.