My 6-year-old daughter Kaci has decided she hates purple trains.
A K-State Wildcat fan like her mother, she sat on the back of the Kansas State Fair’s purple train, waiting for me
to sit by her. Brett, her twin sister, was sitting by Kathy Hanks as I gave the ticket taker all our tickets.
But before I could get on the train, it left me and their two-year-old sister Jordie behind. Stop, I cried. My children are one there. But the train couldn’t stop, they told me. I could only wave in shock as I watched the train disappear.
Another one soon came by, in KU colors, and Jordie and I hopped a ride across the fairgrounds.
It really is a wonderful little ride – giving you a different at the fair. Jordie and I waved to passing fairgoers, watched farmers look at farm equipment, then pointed at the boats on Lake Talbott as we munched on some popcorn thrown to us by the kettle corn vender.
When we got back, Kaci looked at me, her eyes brimming with tears. She wanted to ride with Mommy.
I gave her a hug and told her it would be OK, we’d ride again before the end of the week. I cheered her up by taking them to Agriland where they all played in the tractor and pretended to milk a cow. Earlier in the day, they went through the Kansas Farm Bureau’s ag experience, which garnered them five free ice cream cones from the grandstand dairy bar – a great cool treat after spending the day baking under the triple-digit sun.
Later this week, we’ll slide down the giant yellow side and take a trip through the Ye Old Mill.
“I love the fair,” Kaci said as we walked hand in hand across the hot pavement. “But I don’t like the purple train.”
Episcopal Priest Larry Carver gave her the best advice. If this is the worst thing that happens to you, then
you’re going to have a pretty good life.
She will, too, but probably not as an engineer – of a purple train.