For example...
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| Curious? Fillies (girl horses) are the only horses running in the Oaks... |
I am a little sad that my kids are not growing up knowing Derby like I did. The whole two weeks before the Derby is a big celebration. Schools are closed on Oaks Day (that's the Friday before Derby). We got up early to watch the hot air balloons take off for their big race. We stayed glued to the television to see who won the Golden Antlers each year during the Great Steamboat Race. Every year we'd buy about ten Derby pins at Kroger because we'd always lose them. We'd go to the chow wagon for lunch. One time my brother and I went to Kroger at midnight to watch them make the garland of roses for the winning Derby horse.
Yes, we celebrate for two weeks for a two minute horse race.
I could go on...but let's talk about my sad attempt at putting a little Derby in my kids' lives...
On Friday, Oaks Day, I tried to explain to my youngest two children the significance of the day. Oaks is the race for the fillies the day before the Kentucky Derby. The Lilies for the Fillies. The girl horses.
Me: Guess what today is kids?! It's Oaks Day! That's the race for the girl horses! It's called the Lilies for the Fillies. They make a necklace of lilies for the winner. On Derby day they use a garland of roses for the winner, but today is lilies!
Them: Ooooh. Huh. Hey, this game costs zero nine nine. Can we buy it for the kindle?
Moving on...
Later that afternoon a friend mentioned she wanted Derby Pie®. Suddenly, so did I. Funny how that happens. I became obsessed with it and went to three different stores until I found my pie.
For those of you who do not know about Derby Pie, let me explain...because I have very strong feelings about it. Derby Pie is not a pecan pie with chocolate. It is not a walnut pie with chocolate. It is not a chess pie with chocolate. There is no other pie that can ever be called Derby Pie unless it is made by Kern's Kitchen with Kern's Kitchen stamped all around the edges. It comes in a white box from Kern's Kitchen baked in Louisville, Kentucky. It is patented. If you buy Derby Pie in a restaurant, they cannot call it Derby Pie unless it is the Derby Pie. In my former workplace the cafeteria sold some sorry brownie with walnuts sprinkled on top and labeled it Derby Pie. Guess who was a Narc? This girl.
And, so, my quest for Derby Pie began. I told my husband, the Derby Hater, and he said "Oh, just buy a chocolate cake." I almost punched him.
I went to Walmart. No Derby Pie. I went to Kroger. No Derby Pie. It made me sad at Kroger that when I asked an employee if they had Derby Pie he scratched his head and said "Nooooo...we don't have that in yet." Well, buddy, Derby is tomorrow, so you better hope that truck comes tonight.
Next stop, Remke. Or, as The Third Grader called it...Rumpke. I told him you don't buy Derby Pie at the city dump. Geez, kid.
Remke had it! Yay!
I brought home my pie and the kids loved it. There is still hope!
On Derby Day, I printed the names of all of the Derby contenders, cut them out and put them in a bowl. We took turns picking horses and got ready for the race. The kids started to get excited. It was working. They gathered around the television and chanted "Go mine! Go mine!"
Close enough.
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| See their little horsey pictures? |
I made them be quiet during the singing of My Old Kentucky Home and we watched the horses parade to the starting gate. It was here. The fastest two minutes in sports. My kids were actually watching.
And, they're off!! They were mesmerized cheering on their horses! It was so exciting for them. I felt like I'd started a great tradition.
Until, poor sportsmanship reared it's ugly head. The Third Grader won. Middle Child shot us all dirty looks, punched the television screen and declared "I hate this show" then stomped off down the hall to his room.
Luckily, I was still on a Derby Pie high.
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