The Rodeo, take 2

We went back to the same little small town rodeo that we attended last year. Mr. French works with a women who helps plan and run it. I have to say, it was just as fun as last year, although a bit dustier (we’re still in a major drought down here) and a little more uncomfortable (37 1/2 weeks pregnant will do that for ya, I guess).

We went early on a Saturday night to try to get the boys signed up for the Mutton Bustin’, but unfortunately they ran out of “mutton” by the time we got to the signing in. They were disappointed, though after watching it, I was secretly okay that they missed out. I didn’t get any pictures, but basically they strap a helmet on a kid, throw him (or her) on the back of a sheep and then swing open the gates and you watch as sheep race down the rodeo field with kids hanging on for dear life.

As the announcer said after the first round, “You can get arrested for spanking your kid at Wal-mart, but this is perfectly legal.”

It is fun to watch though.

I was determined to get better pictures this year and as you saw, I took some pre-show and then, my camera died.

I guess we’ll just have to go back next year.

Now you have to know that rodeos are not something Mr. French grew up going to, and if you guessed that they’re not really his thing, you’d be right. So, it might surprise you to see how far he was willing to go to get his children the full experience of the rodeo.

I present to you, stick horse racing, for the younger set.

 

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Boys will be boys, Girls are not boys, Moving is my hobby, Mr. French, Playing the Tourist

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s