The past few years, we've hit the Moab Arts fest with the kids, minus the hubbys. Apparently, the hubs have long since met their Arts quota. We haven't, however.
Last year, the big smash was the Giant Slingshot. Actually, I don't know what it's called. All I know is once the kids saw it, they couldn't forget it. Which means, neither could we. Now, we have to top it.
This year, the sleeper hit was the skate park. No skates involved for our crew tho. Just heelys for the Hartmans and scooters for the Stewarts. (Morgs did Hijack a scooter at one point. That poor child never saw it coming...don't worry, no permanent damage was done.) Not really. I just stated it that way for alliterative purposes.
One of the best things about the arts fest is the children's corner. They organize free activities (art, of course) and entertainment round the clock for as long as the fest is open. They always love the magician (he even made it to the big stage this year. Don't scoff. That's big time.) You can always count on an interminally long, scorching hot, sweaty wait for lightning streaks, butterflies, snakes, and flowers. There might even be a cloud or two. Very tame, rather small, generally minor stuff- hardly worth the wait in Moms eyes.
However, we pulled out all the stops. Well, technically, we had nothing whatsoever to do with it, besides the aforementioned waiting. Did I mention how hot it is in the line?? I keep looking for heat lamps incognito, but so far, nada. At any rate, somone got creative all over Bubs and Jules faces. And I mean All over their faces. If we could have seen through the thickly spackled paint, we'd have seen two beaming, I mean shade your eyes from the glare, kids under it.
Monster mash and Geisha girlImmediately after, we retire to the The Money Pit, conveniently situated next to the chilldren's corner. Where, wonder of wonders, is The Pond (ie. blow up pool) complete with boats (of the paddling variety), sponges (of the dollar store variety), and one interfering yet well meant 'ride operator' (typical fair variety). Technically speaking, that would be Morgs and Jules, but traditionally it's the one charging and enforcing the payment of the astronomically expensive, ridiculously small pieces of cheap construction paper labelled 'TICKET', of which surrendering several at once is required. (Don't worry. I have two of them and I really won't miss the right one much; I will quickly master writing with the left. You'll see.)
Anyhoo, Morgs and Jules could not contain their excitement, since this was the very first time this 'ride' was here and there was no waiting (a big draw for all of us). Pipes and Bubs, the jaded 9 year olds, set their minds to the proven high of the Slingshot, rather than the watery thrills this one might lack.
As you can see, however, thrills is what they got. Apparently, the ticket taker, possibly to attract more than the 4 more interested would-be-boaters, decided to make it a little more interesting, becoming actively involved in the be-wetting of the riders. Utilizing running hose, now airborne sponges, and splashing hand, he did a thorough job.
Unfortunately, something wasn't waterproof.
Giesha girl meets water.After all the excitement of the day, neither of us Moms were surprised when all four big kids were found sleeping on the ride home.
