Parenting humor: Send in the clown

Send in the clown

My son Jack, who is not yet three, has come to think of me as a bit of a clown.

Ever since I introduced him to one of my favourite delights of side-show alley at the Bungendore Show, he wants to insert ping-pong balls into my mouth.

"Go like this, daddy," he says, opening his jaw and rotating his head slowly from side to side. He is very persistent. I think he feels sure he will win a prize sooner or later.

It is my fault really.
I got him hooked on the "clowns" at the Bungendore Show a couple of months ago.
Bungendore is a little country town, about 30 minutes drive from our home in Canberra. My wife Katherine and I thought a country show would be a good way to ease Jack into the wide-eyed world of animal displays, home-produce displays and sideshow alley.

Well, he did like seeing the animals (though not the llama who appeared to be in considerable discomfort while being manhandled and tied down to get its fleece shorn. It doesn’t hurt the animals, we were assured, though even Jack didn’t believe that).

He also liked the home produce stand - so much so, he wanted to touch (and probably taste) every second thing.

But side-show alley was the big winner.

You remember how it was as a kid. All that colour and movement gets you in. All those people having fun, eating fairy floss, dagwood dogs, gobbling the contents of their showbags and then turning their stomachs inside out on the latest whirling, shaking, gyrating side-show contraption. It is so much fun at the time.

First, we put Jack on a very slow-moving little car carousel. In the past, either myself or Katherine had always accompanied him on horse merry-go-rounds or mini-train rides. But his was his first time solo, and it was a big deal for us all.

I don’t know who looked the most terrified at the beginning of the ride, him or us, but by the end it was smiles all round. Unfortunately, we didn’t have a camera to record a very magic moment.

"What do you want to do next?" I asked Jack after we helped him alight from the little blue car.

"I want to go on that," he said, pointing to a whirling, shaking, gyrating contraption nearby. "Daddy come too?"

Now, there comes a moment in every boy’s life when he comes to realise his father is not the superhero he thought him to be. Jack’s realisation came early in life.

I am not a wimp. But I am afraid I draw the line at Thomas The Tank Engine when it comes to action and dare-devil adventure.

"That ride is for big people," I told Jack diplomatically. "How about we try my favourite, the clowns, instead."

It worked.

Jack shoved five or six balls down a clown’s throat, won a prize, a little red plastic car, and was hooked.

Now we can’t go to a fair or show without having to visit the clowns.

And as for me, well, I’m getting a very stiff neck.

NB: I called this site Dunno because I kept drawing a blank when I had to put a name to it