I prefer my Oreos fried

This past weekend we took Will to the fair. He hooted and cooed the whole time. I came up with a food agenda before we went: ham biscuits, cheese fries, and fried Oreos. (When we got there, we opted for a bloomin' onion instead of the cheese fries--an acceptable addendum to the agenda, I thought.) Everything we ate, Will ate. Bless him. He loved it.

Will rode the carousel, and that sweet thing would have been happy if all he did was sit on the horse, but when it started moving, well, that was the icing on top, the fried to the Oreo. He held that pole so tight and just smiled away. (You might wonder if he's smiling or crying in the pictures below. It is a smile. I am happy to report we shed no tears at the fair.)

I am now enjoying that thing about parenthood that I've heard people talk about where you get to experience the things of your childhood all over again through your own child. And let me just say, the fair has never been so fun.

"Really, mom? Can't you see I'm eating a bloomin' onion over here?"