Dear Little F,
Today we took you to your second Renaissance Festival. This is an annual event for your dad and me. It’s one that has definitely evolved over the years. Before you were born, before your father and I were even married, I used to go with your Aunt K and some of our friends. It was a day of drinking, made different from other days of drinking by taking place 500 years in the past. To give you an idea of what it was like in those days we used to go around yelling, “Debauch!” instead of “Huzzah!” One year, after your father and I were married, we even took a limo so everyone could get trashed while we were there. It was epic. However, the hangover you get after drinking during the middle ages and coming to in present day is not a pretty one.
As you know from joining us on our trips, the past two years have been very different. The weather for your first Renaissance Festival was very hot and you slept through most of the day.
This year the weather was perfect and you were awake the entire time we were there. You had such a good time, even if you drank too much water too soon after eating and ended up throwing up while your Guncle* E was holding you. Luckily I thought ahead and had packed an extra shirt for you to wear and we were able to wipe off your shorts. The next time you vomit all over the Festival grounds I hope you plan ahead and have a designated driver. Or better yet, a limo driver. You’ll talk about it for the next 500 years, I promise.
*Thanks to Tori Spelling for if not coining the word, turning me on to the word, guncle, a contraction of the words gay and uncle. Me and Tori, two hags in a pod.