Rockford Market

mrG — Sun, 10 Nov 2002 19:48:31 -0500

"Can I take a Rescue Hero?"

No, you can't because there's going to be toys there. But that didn't really settle them; Rockford Flea Market just didn't sound like a toy store. We got them tucked in their car seats and headed off into the Sunday afternoon rain.

Rockford is a hamlet a few minutes south of Owen Sound, and while it once-upon-a-time was also the bluegrass/old-time jam of the week thursdays at the long vanished truck-stop cafe, most people around here know Rockford for it's warehouse-sized Sunday afternoon flea market.

"It's like a treasure hunt," I told them as we got out of the car.

And treasures there were. Two tables down they'd thought they'd decided on the toy of the century, but then we got farther along to whole stalls full of Hot Wheels cars, a real live typewriter ("We saw one in the museum in Winnipeg!") and a roaratorio of woodwork, clothing, old hardware, lamps, tables, trading cards and, well, junk. Three quarters of the way around the loop, though, it was totally like clear y'know that the star attraction was Bayblades, two whole vendors worth and both with oodles of consumer advice on what makes a good 'blade from a cheap one. Nolan was sold.

... but then disaster hit: Kaelin just kind of slumped into a real preschooler funk. He wanted to go, he wanted to be carried, he just didn't know what he wanted. May took him outside, but that wasn't going to placate him either, and by now Nolan had figured out we're going to have to leave the Bayblades behind and, well, if you have small children, you know the parade that left the market that day!

The little one, it seems, just broke into the flu May'd had this past week, his fever went up a bit but mostly he just felt like crap and pretty much cried all through grocery shopping (you have to make use of the time in the town when you live as far from it as we do) and all the long drive made longer back to the beach right up until about the time the Tylenol kicked in. Ah, the joys of parenting.

He's asleep now, of course, and at his age, it will probably be long over by morning. Nolan's forgotten the 'blades until the show comes on again, and, well, there's always another day.

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Rockford Market