It started like any other show day.
Bearhands went to work early. The girls had dippy eggs for breakfast and were still in the pyjamas at nine.
After lunch we headed up the hill to the show. I didn't enter anything this year, but the Big Sister's school had submitted some entries as part of a display dedicated to the ANZAC centenary.
The Big Sister's drawing was awarded Highly Commended.
For those of you who don't read six-year-old, here's the translation:
Turn your thoughts on this occasion to those who fought and died in the war.
Years have passed and time has forgotten but will remember the soldiers once more.
She was deservedly chuffed and her parents and grandparents had deservedly misty eyes and puffed chests.
We wandered the show, admiring shiny poultry and sniggering like teenagers at the "lemon cuckoo cocks".
We all drew collective breaths as the Little Sister dodged landmines in the dairy cattle exhibit.
We shouted encouragement to the Little Sister who found herself glued to the post at the top of the very tall slide.
We applauded the Big Sister who, having tried talking her off the ledge for several minutes, eventually tackled her and slid down with her.
We dried the Little Sister's tears when she discovered she actually enjoyed the slide seconds before her turn was over.
We laughed at the kids on the dodgem cars.
We laughed harder when the Big Sister decided she was NOT A FAN of the dodgem cars.
We dried the Big Sister's dodgem tears.
We waited for a g e s for the girls to choose the showbags Daddy had promised them.
We rejoiced when they finally decided what plastic bag of plastic crap they'd like to bring into our home.
do you love the dodgems?
when did showbags become so expensive?