This past Saturday I take my son to the Ringling Brothers Circus. I think I was more excited to go than my son was. My good friend and her daughter came too. We did this last year, and this year I got us front row tickets. AWESOME!
Anyway, we take the metro to the Verizon Center and go to the wrong entrance. I even followed the signs posted to get there. Whatever. D.C. makes no sense. A nice cop directed me to the right area. I wait outside the right entrance for my friend and her daughter. Time passes. Then some more time passes. My son gets antsy and whiny and won't be quiet with the "where are theeeyyyyyy" repetition. Why do kids do that? Ask the same question over and over and over when you are standing right there with them and would know if the answer to the question was anything different from "I don't know". I call her over the phone and she was literally 10 feet from me, just inside the Dunkin Donuts while I was outside it. Ha! Funny.
Now my son stopped whining about where they were, and started to whine about when we would get INSIDE the circus. That should have been an omen to me to just turn back onto the metro and go home. But noooooooo. In we went, where we got searched to make sure I wasn't carrying an, oh I don't know, a tranq dart gun to shoot at the elephants and laugh my ass off when they passed out on stage. Even if I did have a tranq dart gun, I wouldn't use it on the elephant, I'd use it on Mr. Whiny Pants.
The pre-show was cool. Just a small taste of what was coming up, like some acrbatics with a bunch of straw hats and a few couples doing the amazing gymnastics moves. I kept trying to look for cellulite on these girls but could find none. Bitches.
After the pre-show, my son turns to me and goes, "is that it???!?!!". I laughed and said no way the show hasn't even started. We went to our (front row!) seats and got comfy. I asked my son if he had to pee, he said no. I asked him if he wanted anything to eat, he said no.
Once the lights dimmed he could see those annoying toys that swirl around and light up - you know, the ones that cost a million dollars and then break the day after you get them home. He wanted a sword. "I want a swwooooorrrddddd. I want a swwooooorrrddddd. I want a swwooooorrrddddd." Mind you we are front row, meaning Row A. I needed to hoof it up to Row K or some shit to get out into the main area. Can we say winded? I get him his damn sword and I get me some cotton candy. Don't judge me. It's a circus and I'm having my cotton candy. I also got an icee cup for my friend's daughter. She said thank you while my son just gave me a dirty look. Yeah, you're welcome.
I can't remember if it was before the intermission or after, but then he decided he wanted one of those stupid spin things. But he wanted to keep the sword. Again, "I want a lliiiggghhhhttttttt. I want a lliiiggghhhhttttttt. I want a lliiiggghhhhttttttt." Now, I knew that I should say no. I know that by giving him what he wants I'm only making things worse for myself. I know this. But I also know that my son having a screaming melt down at the circus might be hazardous to those trapeze artists' lives. I don't want to be responsible for their plunge to death because my kid made a huge scene.
So I hoof it back up to the concourse and get him a stupid flashlight thingy with a motorcycle in a cage on top that twirls and lights up. I thought it was pretty darn cool. He felt differently when he saw it. He wanted one with a TIGER on top. "I want the one with the tiiiggeerrrrrrrrr. I want the one with the tiiiggeerrrrrrrrr. I want the one with the tiiiggeerrrrrrrrr. I want the one with the tiiiggeerrrrrrrrr." I could not believe this. I really couldn't. I was beside myself at how blatantly obnoxious he was being and more than a little embarrassed by how this was all going down. I was seriously considering tossing him into the tiger cage.
So I hoof it back up to the concourse....again.... and thank god in heaven that the vendor let me trade the motorcycle light thing for the tiger. Ok now get this: it was pink. The tiger flashy light thingy was for a GIRL. But, I got it anyway and went back down.
Was my little exercise session over? Nope.
"I want pooooppppcccooorrrrnnnnn." I was really wanting that tranq gun right about now. I didn't even bother arguing. I launch myself out of my chair and hoof it back to the concourse. I pay SEVEN DOLLARS for a thing of popcorn and had the common sense to buy a FIVE DOLLAR cup of coke and take it back to King Pain in the Ass.
The rest of the show played out nicely, until, "I have to go to the baaatthhhrrooooommm."
I thought to myself, "I am never taking this kid anywhere fun ever again." I felt like this trip to the circus was my punishment for being a bad person in a past life or something. But - and this was the best part of the show, the motorcycle guys came and did their stunts in the cage and my son forgot all about having to pee. Then these guys that looked like they were extras on the set of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory came bouncing out in these totally ridiculous orange and pink ruffeley outfits and did all kinds of crazy stunts on trampolines involving hula hoops. My kid loved that part, and thank god, that was the last part of the show. They all came out and did their "end of the show" show and then I took Matt to the bathroom once the aisles cleared out of big fat slow people.
On our way out of the center, he saw the stand of gazillion dollar toys that break after a day and fell in love with a stuffed white tiger. I said, loudly, "OH HELL NO!" and then HE looked at ME like _I_ was crazy!! Really? Seriously??? For real? After the entire circus fiasco he put me through he must have seen murder in my eyes or something because he TRADED his sword for the stuffed white tiger. My friend's daughter traded the pink tiger spinny thingy for a little pink purse with a white tiger in it.
So basically, despite the stair master exercise session from front row to concourse, I ended up spending only about $25 on a toy for him. And hey, it's not like I can't use the exercise. Will I torture myself again next year? Probably. Because my life is, most definitely, a circus.
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