Madeline and the Cow 2010

During Madeline's first trip to the Indiana State Fair, we accidentally started the tradition of "Madeline and the Cow: An Artistic Journey Past Deep-Fried Vendors."

It all started with this shot.

2007

It became one of my favorite pictures because it reminds me that, yes, I am one of those first-time parents who is eager to share everything with her child and is willing to drag her 4-month-old to the Indiana State Fair. (And bring a 5-month-old to the zoo, etc.)

I'm still that way except now I have a 3-year-old who shares my enthusiasm.

Life with a toddler is slammin'. (Shout-out to Chenille from "Save the Last Dance.")

Alas, I cannot find 2008's photo. If I had to take a guess, I would say it's somewhere on our old laptop along with a dusty to-do-list from 2009 that says, "Backup pics from laptop."

If you need proof that we went that year, let's just say you can't find a Possum Holler sign anywhere else.

Moving on.

2009

This photo makes me think "stink."

As in "Wow, those barns really do stink" and "Wow, my daughter is stinkin' cute.

The tiny pigtails and chunky baby face make me want to pull a Hermoine and use a Time-Turner. (Jen, that was for you.)

Which brings us to last week.

2010

I don't know why it looks grainy and fuzzy. I promise she really is our child and paparazzi were not snapping from 500 yards away, yelling "Jatie! Madeline! Look over here!"

(I tried to be all funny and clever by combining our names just like Brangelina but it just looks like a typo. But Koe really isn't any better.)

Despite my lack of photography skills, I still love Madeline and her cow.

I just have to include this next picture because while Madeline does love to fish and thinks the plastic fish are about the coolest thing on the planet, the background is what I would really like to discuss.

Someone at the fair thinks it's very important to illustrate the dangers of suffocating in a silo.

While I might be a city girl, I still question if it really is all that necessary to:

1. discuss this at the fair when one's focus is finding the line between satisfaction and gluttony,
   
2. physically recreating someone dying in a silo and
   
3. situating the scary dying man next to the kiddie fishing pond.

Not cool, Indiana State Fair. I know this scary dying man has been in that barn for a long time but it's time to reconsider a move.

When I first saw these next photos, the lyric "Just a small-town girl" ran through my head. I think it totally applies here.

As long as a small town can be defined as a city with a population of two million.

But I guess that's what the fair is all about.

Anyone can feel a tad more country simply by sitting on some brand-new tractors, harvesting plastic veggies and eating fresh corn with excess butter dripping off your elbow.

Now excuse me while I take Madeline to the fair for her fourth visit this summer. (If the fair had groupies, we'd be first in line.)