When I think about what a firetruck with its lights on and siren going must look like to an infant, I don't know why I thought it would be so much fun for Charlie to go to a parade that began fifteen minutes after bedtime.
The streamers hanging from the tree were a huge hit though.
The parade was to celebrate the return of our local Little League team from their World Series bid, where they came in third place. It consisted of the university's marching band, who played "Take Me Out to the Ballgame," policemen on motorcycles, firetrucks, and then convertables that carried the players. The families of the players rode behind the convertables in SUVs.
Charlie clung to me while the firetrucks passed. He buried his head when they honked their horns. And when they were gone, he couldn't hold in the miserable whimpering any longer.
Me: "Charlie! Look! There go the FIIIIIIRE TRUCKS!!"
Charle: "I am begging you. Put me to bed right now. This is the most terrifying experience I've ever had."
I had so much fun. AND we got dinner for a dollar each--hot dogs, chips, drinks, and ice cream sandwiches.
There's so much I will miss about this town.