Parades?

It seemed like a good idea, it truly did. I would take my almost two year old daughter and the neighbour's seven year old daughter to the Santa Claus parade. I did my homework, sourced out the best place to view it, figured out the bus route so I wouldn't have to drive, even checked out what coffee shop would be nearest to have a cup of hot chocolate afterward.

I woke up that morning excited to begin this special adventure, confident that we were starting a new holiday tradition. The first look out the window told me that it wasn't going to be a perfect day. It was damp and drizzly. "That's okay", I thought, rain gear for me and the stroller cover for my daughter. As the morning went on, the rain got a little more incessant. That gave me hope, because if it kept raining that hard, it for sure would have to stop soon.

Parade time got closer and the neighbour's mother called to see if I was still on for the parade. I said "of course, none of us will melt in a little rain." She replied, "You are better sport than I am", and sent her daughter over. I thought smugly of how I was not only a good sport but a fun, terrific mother. Looking back, I think my more experienced neighbour was probably laughing at me.

So we set out, full rain gear, rubber boots, the works. We arrive at the bus stop exactly three minutes early as I had planned. Fifteen minutes later, soaked to the bone we board the very late bus. Determined that this will still be a terrific and memorable day, I cheerfully say "Two children and one adult, please". He tells me it will be $4.25. I hand him a $20. He says. "We don't make change M'am, it's exact fare only." I am flabbergasted, they should have told me this when I called the bus information. I tried to plead but there was no reasoning with the man. So I put the $20 in the fare box, making a mental note to find a bank machine in order to pay for the hot chocolate.

We finally get to the parade site and it's still raining. We had no trouble getting a good spot. I guess the smarter people decided to stay home and watch it on television. Finally, it starts, and it starts with a marching band. This scared the heck out of my toddler. She cried and screamed and would not stay in her stroller. She hung to my neck sobbing and sobbing. Now she is soaking wet too, but in for a penny, in for a pound. We watch the whole tragic thing: Floats falling apart, bands muffled by the rain, Santa's sleigh being drawn by the skeletons of former paper mache reindeer. It was all quite terrifying. Then, with a hush it was over, the parade, the rain, the crying.

Nothing left to do but go get a hot chocolate and try to get warmed up and dry. We walked for a couple of blocks to a bank machine that was all out of money, another that only gave me a $50 which no coffee shop would ever take. Taxis will take a $50 bill though and that is what I hailed to take us all home.

Our neighbour, the more experienced mother and former parade watcher, bless her, was waiting with dry towels and hot chocolate on the stove. As I drank mine, I noticed she had slipped something in it, a bit stronger than marshmallows. For that, I was grateful.

Will I venture out for the next Christmas Parade? I have thought about it and have come to the conclusion that it should be a nice bonding experience for my husband and daughter. Should make for an interesting article next year.