The F#%&ING Circus part 1

This blog post has been coming for a while. Technically this is the one that "started it all" as they say. Who are "they"? Anyway, this is the mother of all "the shit my Cheese says" posts. Warning, there is foul language because she wouldn't truly be my child if there wasn't. Enjoy.

It was early one morning, as usual, trying to rush to get them ready for school. Backpacks and lunch money flying, cereal being poured, the news on the television. There sat my "angels", Cheese in the seat with her back to the t.v. slurping up milk from her cereal, milk dripping from her chin as she chews with her mouth open...was she raised in a barn you ask? Why yes, yes she was. Thanks. The Man (my son) was sitting facing the t.v. watching the news, because at eight years old you need to be up on current events and world affairs. And in the high chair, my sweet Bird enjoying her morning pre-bottle snack.

The morning show on the local station is doing this and that, I'm not totally awake so I don't really here anything other than that sound that comes out of the teacher on Charlie Brown. "Wah, wah, wah wah wah, wah." They break for commercial and I am watching, mug in hand. A commercial for The Ringling Brother and Barnum & Bailey Circus came on.

The t.v. bellowed, "It's the greeeeeeeeeeeatest show on Earth!"

Cheese whipped her head around, GaGa eyes out, staring down the television.

The announcer continues, "Come experience the mystifying show with death defying stunts, The Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey present Dragons!"

Cheese averts her Gaga-esque eyes toward me, in a very low whisper, "Oh my God, it's the FUCKING CIRCUS!"

*Shocked* "What honey?"

"It's the circus!! Man look! It's the circus! I need to go to the circus now!"

The man responds, "I'm not going. It was kind of dumb."

I look at the clock, it's that magical time where if I don't get them scooted out the door the junior and senior high bus will pass and we will get stuck behind it. I move them to the car and we are driving down the street.

"I cannot believe the fucking circus is back Mommy!"

"Me either Cheese. How bad do you want to go?"

*still ignoring her word choice*

"So bad, I want to see the elephants, and the horses, and..." I am cutting off there because I don't think she took another breath until we reached the school...7 more minutes from the time I asked the question.

Of course, I have to visit my friends in the school and relay this story. My texting fingers got a little more calloused that day as well. It is decided...1) I must start a blog for all the shit she says and 2) we are going to the fucking circus.

All day, as I am working on projects, writing the first entry to this very blog, I keep giggling about the fucking circus. I can't keep my mind off of it so I have to see what times and prices. A mere half hour later I am the proud owner of 3 tickets to the fucking circus.

It's all set, April 7 we will be going to the fucking circus. It was going to be Cheese, Mall-or-ree, and me going to said circus. Man really didn't want to go, and it never crossed my mind to invite Monster because it just didn't strike as something she'd be interested in.

That afternoon when she got off the bus and strode to the house I could tell it had been a long day. Originally I was not going to tell her about the tickets but her little shoulders just seemed slumped and her head was hung low so upon entering the castle I told her we got tickets.

"OH MY GOD", running laps around our house because in the genius design the kitchen, living room, and hall all connect like a giant race track, "I HAVE TICKETS TO THE FUCKING CIRCUS!!!!"

"I HAVE TO CALL GRANDMA AND TELL HER I HAVE TICKETS TO THE FUCKING CIRCUS!!!"

Um, no. No you don't need to tell Grandma about the fucking circus. Just not a good idea.