Rodeo

The little town next to us is where we go to church.  It is also where we go to the rodeo.  

It is teeny tiny, in comparison to most rodeos, I suppose, but so is the town in comparison to most towns.

The kids love it.  

I must confess, though, that it is not my favorite thing.  I am not a cowgirl.  But I do like seeing the little ones dressed in their rootin' tootin' cowpoke gear.  I like the rodeo more every year I think, and try to get into more, at least for the kids' sake.

First there are kids' games: chase the chicken; feed sack races; egg toss...

Chase the chicken gets pretty intense.

Yee-haw, eh?

Spencer with his Indiana Jones hat (and pocket knife in his pocket) in the egg toss.

Go, Ezra!

Kate would rather watch from the side.

When the rodeo events begin there is a whole lotta watching.  Watching barrel racing, calf roping, steer riding, mutton bustin'...

Hot, sticky, ice cream face Jiles.

Callen and Kate

Some of the little cowpokes.

As soon as the sun drops behind that mountain things are going to get waaaaay cooler.

Watching the mutton bustin'.

3-year-old Clancy lasted about .03 seconds.  But, man, is he brave!  That's his dad on the right opening the gate.

Spencer's buddy, Cole, is about to try his hand on the steer's back.

That's going to hurt.  Johnny was limping at church the next day.

If you're wondering where our family was during all of the riding and participating and stuff, the answer is watching, eating, and sitting on the fence.  Except for little Ezra who totally busted a mutton.   (And wanted to bust it again and again.)

I got him on film (er, SD card).  Check him oouut!