Many years ago, when my big children were little and my younger son wasn't even born; in fact, I hadn't even met his father, I worked for a child welfare agency. I was with a unit that worked with children living in foster homes and the circus came to town.

The circus gave a bunch of tickets to the agency I worked for and we distributed them to any foster parents who wanted to take their children and their foster children to the circus. The agency thought some of us social workers should go, too, I don't know why; maybe they thought we could use our expertise if any of the children acted out. Unfortunately it was a foster mother who acted out and I chose not to intervene. So I went and took my children.

My father took me to a circus once when I was about four. I don't know why about that either. Even at the age of four I found it incredibly boring and the animal acts distressed me. Apparently it had the same effect on my father and about half way through he asked if I was ready to go and I said yes.

But every child should go to the circus once to find out how tedious it is; and why should my children be allowed to escape? But that circus, on that day, was anything but boring. When we got there we discovered that a group from the school for the deaf had esconced themselves in our seats.

All the seats were reserved and our assignments were stamped on the tickets. I didn't really care where we sat, but one of the foster mothers did. In fact, we had accidentally gotten very good seats, right up front, almost in the ring, and the foster mother wasn't willing to give them up. A shouting match between her and someone I assume was a teacher from the school for the deaf ensued and she won, especially after the shouting attracted the attention of some ushers who ran over to arbitrate and instructed the deaf people to move.

It was an exciting 5 or 10 minutes and the children we were with really enjoyed it. I don't know that the deaf children noticed until they had to move. I enjoyed it, too, because I thought it would be the most memorable event of the afternoon. Boy, was I wrong.

There was the entrance parade and then the clowns and the various acts going on; the trapeze people and the bareback horse riders, etc. Then the elephants came out, with ladies on their heads. (The ladies were on the elephant's heads, not standing on their own heads. A really good act would be a lady standing on her head on an elephant's head, but I've never seen that.)

After they circled the ring the elephants took position in a circle, facing inwards with their rears to the audience and their front feet (Are elephant's feet paws or hooves or just feet?) up on little stands that I guess were incredibly sturdy.

Any of you that have been to parades have seen the people whose job it is to follow after the horses with trash cans on wheels and brooms and scoops to clean up the street when a horse has to pause to answer the call of nature. Well, there are similar functionaries at a circus, which I had not noticed when I was four. I guess they stay on the sidelines unless something shits and if something does, then they run out to clean it up.

To the delight of all the children in my group, including my own, the elephant standing right in front of us did. Somehow bodily functions are endlessly fascinating to the very young and the very old. I must admit it added to the circus to have an elephant with her rear pointed towards one defecate not ten feet in front of one. You don't get to see that on Wild Kingdom. But that wasn't the best part.

The functionary with his cart on wheels and his broom and scoop ran out to our elephant and all the children cheered and clapped for him and he waved and bowed with great showmanship and then turned to attend to the clean up. He bent down right under the elephant and began scooping and sweeping and the elephant wasn't finished. Yes!! Believe or not, the elephant shit right on the man's head. The children went wild. This time the cheers and claps were all for the elephant; dared we to hope she had done it on purpose?

The man straightened up and elephant feces cascaded down his back. He cleaned that up, too, and then turning and bowing again, he left. What aplomb!

I have never been to another circus and I never shall. Fortunately my younger son's father was dating a woman with children, or maybe she was just a friend, I can't remember, and she forced him to go with her and take our son; so I was spared the pain of inflicting that experience on him. After all, one couldn't expect lightening, or a circus elephant, to strike twice in one's life.