Right under the armpits

One thing you can say about living in Nashville, whenever there's music, it is usually good. That was certainly the case at the craft fair in Franklin this last weekend. We met L's parents there amid a sea of people and, in a just a block or so, heard Country, Bluegrass, Southern Rock and California Jazz. I pulled Kara aside for the jazz band, explaining what the band was doing and why. She was nearly spent by then, though. See, there was a kid's area. These giant, inflatable rooms for kids. Two tickets and she was away in one called "Jurassic" with giant teeth and a climbable volcano, kids jumping around, throwing themselves against each other, sliding into each other. Pandemonium. One resembled a giant dog's head. You entered under the ear and came out (via an interior slide) the nose. Inside, whooshes of air kept a bunch of balloons swirling and bouncing around. Parents clustered about transparent plastic portholes, watching our little darlings bounce around like crazy human electrons. My favorite is "pass the balloon in your mouth" meaning that your kid puts a balloon in their mouth and then passes it to another kid who does the same thing. I also like the "too old to be here" kid who keeps ducking out of the nose to tell on a sibling and then ducking back in. The food was expensive, though there were deals to be had: I snagged a decent egg role for $1.75. Franklin's downtown is a sidewalk-shop odyssey. Lots of art stores, galleries, chocolate shops and antiques. It also looks a great deal like New England, which, we are learning, is a must-have on everyone's architectural wish list. What used to be the corner store now becomes the purvue of resort and high-society locations. Caleb had a great time just looking around. There was one point where, taking two balloons in hand, I belted him about the ears with them. This urned a happy bit of piglet grunting from him, along with an expectorant wave of hands and curl of tongue. He is so funny when he gets excited. I love throwing him in the air a few times and listening to him laugh, though it brings back some painful memories of my Dad throwing me about a zillion miles up into the air and catching me again and again right under the armpits (ouch!)