We decided to take UTA's FrontRunner and TRAX to get there this year because Brad had be given two free all-day passes on them after a mishap with his monthly pass. I was pretty nervous that George would choose the moment that we had no quick getaway (as provided by a car) to suddenly become inconsolable. However, he LOVED the ride. Seriously, all for it. By the time we got to the State Fair he had already fallen asleep in his stroller.
Along with visiting Chad that we like to walk through all the art exhibits, such as the ever-lame photography one... which is just so bad it's awesome. And also has the shadiest elevator ever in the building that houses it, I wish I had taken a picture. There was a hole in the center of the floor as well as a random chair. I have no clue what was up with it, but it was probably haunted or housed a frightening bumpkin family who ate people or something. It was legitimately creepy. Brad wanted to just carry the stroller down the stairs to avoid it.
Otherwise there are all the farm animals to see, which is super fun! Seriously, we love animals. Even though they make me itchy, they're so worth it. Especially the chickens. For some reason we're super into chickens. There were these Japanese-something-or-anothers and they were amazingly cute. But the big highlight this year for us were the sheep who appeared to be members of the KKK.
Shame on them.
We thought that taking picture across the street from them would be cool, though. Makes sense, right? Sheep in the KKK... pictures. The math seems all right.
I decided I might look super-duper cute if I pulled my hair down for a picture as well. Here's a mid-hair ruffling shot. It's semi-epic. I'm basically ready for a hair commercial.
Right? So epic.
But really, it was not cute. My hair just looked like it had been through a wind tunnel of nasty. Even George is giving me a, "Oh dear," look in this picture. He also may look slightly disgusted. Yep. It was a worth a shot, I suppose. At least I'm not a racist like those sheep back there... disgrace, they are.
After that attempt I tried to take some poorly executed family photos. Hey, at least my finger isn't in the picture, so we're getting somewhere.
At this point we realized that George peed his pants. I actually had a feeling that this was going to happen for some reason (like maybe because my son is the King Pee-er), so luckily I had run back in before we left and grabbed an extra onesie. BE PREPARED. (This could be attributed to the Boy Scouts' motto or Scar. Whichever you prefer.)
With our new wardrobe change, we choose our next photo-op to be by a cow's butt. Again, this makes total sense. I think a lot of photographers would agree. I took this moment to also re-prove that I should not be twenty-three by sticking my finger in the picture again, and also by goobering-up the pictures Brad took of George and I. We were by a butt though, so it's probably cool.
We sadly missed the pigs, however. We couldn't find them for some reason, which is pathetic considering they're housed in a building subtitled "PIGS" in giant letters. Who knows what happened there. But we hopped back on the train ride home, which George found extra exciting!
And we thought, "Hey, let's take stupid pictures of ourselves!"
And then George had a snack with Dad, and we all went home happy and tired. The end!