Mutton Bustin

"Compassionate care is a crucial component to effective health care delivery." Or, at least that's what I wrote on the husband's homework tonight. No, I don't do his homework for him. I edit it--mostly. And you would too if it was the only way to get your man to take you to the rodeo.

That's right, it's Fiesta days in Spork again. Which, for some unknown reason, translates into an odd mixture of festivity: broncs and cowboys hashing it out in the arena; parades; the traveling carnival; assorted tributes to the Mormon pioneers; family water fights; and of course, fireworks. I'm not exactly sure who stole the phrase "Fiesta days" to describe my small Utah's town's annual celebration, and to anyone else it may seem misplaced, but it fits for me.

I love reintroducing Atrain to the rodeo year after year. With every experience he's more attentive, more inquisitive, and more adorable. This year we prepared for the rodeo by doing what we do best: scavenging through the DI for appropriate cowboy attire. Atrain came away with the most adorable straw hat, and wore it at the big dance with pride. He took a seat next to Bellzozo on Grandpa's lap, giggled at the clowns, admired every shiny big truck (asking, "can we go shopping for that one" with every other breath), and he couldn't get over the fact that we were sitting on top of the stables. But what was his favorite part, you ask? The tractor that came to comb the dirt, of course.

My favorite part was, as it always is, the 'mutton bustin.' It's when young cowboys and cowgirls (around age 4) try to ride a running sheep bare back. It's probably rather dangerous, but is extremely entertaining. This year a boy made it more than half way across the arena by hanging on backwards. I still giggle as I replay that image in my mind.

This was Jdog's first rodeo, and he rode it out like a champ. He may have even enjoyed it. He loved giggling on Grandpatty's lap and was content to sit and stare at every interesting spectacle (of which there are many). He has such a sweet spirit, so content to sit on my lap and gurgle his spit while chewing on my key string. I do my best not to take advantage of his patience, which is why I ended up breast feeding him in the warm-up arena part way through the show. Shaved ice can only satisfy for so long.

We returned home long before the cowboys saddled up on the broncs. With work and school in the morning it was hard to justify staying out too many hours past the boys bedtimes. Not to mention the fact that I still hadn't finished editing the husband's paper. As we were on our way out I said, "Oh that was so much fun." The husband smiled back at me with his crooked grin and said, "It sure was. You should do my homework more often."