I love small town parades. Okay, not the time 30 years ago when the Memorial Day parade consisted of a couple of kids on bikes and the mayor carrying a Sousa-blasting boombox. That was a little embarrassing. But generally, a parade in a small town is a blast.
It’s true, you don’t get the enormous inflatables floating down the street overhead, but you have all the basics, like really loud trucks,
people throwing candy at you, and your parents actively encouraging you to run out in the street.
AND you get all the small-town good stuff. Running into friends on every corner.
Opportunities to descend on one of your babysitters.
And if you have a habit of climbing things that you oughtn’t, it’s possible you might get, ah … hung up on something.
Yes, in fact, I did take a picture before I rescued him. If you’re surprised about that, I’d say it’s possible you haven’t been paying attention.