Renaissance, Man!
If you look around you and all the guys look like Kulstad and all the women like lilwolf, and they're all packing steel, odds are you're at a Renaissance Faire -- in our case, the Minnesota Renaissance Festival.This was Emma's first Renaissance Faire. We went to the MRF the first year we were in Minnesota, a month or so after Em was conceived. We hadn't gone back until now for a variety of reasons. One obvious one: in the realm of the roast turkey leg, there's a shortage of vegetarian options. Another reason: Emma's unfortunate preoccupation with breasts -- or, as she prefers to call them, "udders." (And I thought breast-feeding was supposed to yield a well-adjusted kid!) Kristi suspected Emma would see all of those bodice-busting bosoms and go nuts.
As we passed through the ticket gate, Emma was greeted by a fairy. Not a cast member dressed as a fairy -- a real fairy. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it. She looked to be about 15 or 16, dressed in green and with beautiful translucent dragonfly-like wings (they don't sell wings like that anywhere I've seen). She didn't speak a word -- just knelt down, caught Emma's eye, and conversed with her silently while pressing a crystal, swimming in glittery fairydust, into Emma's palm. Then she threw us a very impish sideways glance and flitted off to great another child.
Emma was literally speechless for the next 5 minutes. And trust me -- with Emma, that just doesn't happen.
It was "Mid-East Mirage" weekend, with belly-dancing and such -- but most importantly, with Arabian horses. Kristi's in love with Arabians, and so am I, ever since I read "The Black Stallion" in elementary school. So we went and watched them prance and race for a while. Then Kristi and Emma took the world's shortest elephant ride. No, it wasn't the elephant that was short; it was the ride. (What are elephants doing at a Renaissance Faire, you ask? You're not alone.)
Mostly, Emma wanted to shop; she had over $6.00 burning a hole in her purse alongside the fairy stone. So we stopped at the interesting-looking shops, with Emma (surprisingly) taking our advice to shop around before buying something. We saw some fine juggling, some dubious fencing, and some bodice-busting -- well, honestly, I didn't notice that part. Neither did Emma.
We met the fairy again, late in the day, after lots of shopping, juggling and quaffing of enormous flagons of lemonade. We were on our way back to a candle shop to buy Emma's selected treasure, a dragon candle. Suddenly the fairy was in front of us. She seemed to recognize Emma. Still, she did the same thing she'd done before: locked eyes with her and presented her with a fairystone, this one twice the size of the first. Then she vanished. I was disappointed; why would a real fairy give her the same thing twice? Suddenly I had my doubts; maybe this was just a high-school sophomore from Chaska with a weekend gig.
After I paid for the dragon candle, we sat on the grass so that Emma could empty out her purse to repay me. She was shocked, and a little distraught, to find that the first, smaller fairystone was gone; she'd lost it at some point during the day. But now, it made sense. The fairy knew. All doubt was gone.
Like I said: that's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
(Not five minutes after we got home, the almost-six-year-old next door had broken the candle. Just a small part broken off, and Kristi patched it up nearly good as new. Emma is convinced that it was a deliberate act; I didn't witness it, and I haven't asked Kristi her opinion. But I wouldn't be shocked.)
posted by MeanMrMustard @ 7:01 AM
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