Other children at the parade wore darling Christmas sweaters with happy elves dancing across their chests, and they snuzzled deep into fleecy blankets. R.J. wore his pompom hat and one hot pink Hello Kitty glove with his letter jacket-- his shirt hanging out the bottom (against all teachings of his Grandma, who always kept Mommy's dress coats longer than her hem because that's what separates ladies from the gals in the goodbye-ing scene in "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.") But, we made it to the parade as a family, and that's what counts.
We saw the bands marching--the bells of the horns wrapped in Christmas cheer--otherwise known as multi-colored duct tape (you really can do everything with duct tape!). And, we saw the fire trucks--lights flashing a jolly message of good tidings of comfort and joy.
An Edmond Electric glowstick in hand, R.J. was ready to celebrate the season. Until the parade started. The little fan of all things marching, pulling, pushing, and chugging was not a fan of things marching, pulling, pushing and chugging in the dark. "Mommy, wanna hold you!" he cried. Hands on his ears, he tolerated the caroling, and with some cajoling from Mommy, he tolerated the tinsel, trees, and horns:
And, as tradition has it, the jolliest old chap of them all, Santa Claus, arrived on his sleigh--er, his Edmond Electric ladder truck. We waved. We told Santa that R.J. had been a very good boy. And, we celebrated the unofficial Christmas kickoff as a family. Andy Williams knew, it's the most wonderful time of the year. But, I bet Andy Williams didn't know that Mrs. Claus doesn't share a ride with Santa. She travels by bomb squad:
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