That's not a Toostie Roll, Honey. That's a cigarette butt.

In order for children to really enjoy a parade, parents have to let them break all the basic rules. Running into a busy street, taking candy from a stranger, and eating things you found on the ground are all acceptable behaviors while attending a parade. It's also okay if an adult beans a small child with a hard object.

I wonder if Charlotte finds this confusing. We spent two hours siting on a Beaver Avenue curb last Saturday morning, but if she gets within four feet of the street this afternoon, I'm going to yell at her to get back, or run over and grab her arm. And if she picks anything off of the cement, I'm sure not going to let her put it in her mouth. I guess that's just Real Life vs. Parade Life.

Snarkiness aside, we had a blast. Char got a football, some stickers, and a large bag of candy.

She saw the Cookie Monster,

a woman wearing a disturbingly realistic horse mask,

and a hungover chicken trying to crow.

Wait. I'm trying to tone down my snide comments. Let me regroup and try again.

Okay, Char enjoyed seeing the Firefighters,

and since she's a big fan of Irish music, the bagpipers were a hit, too.

The local Beaverdale florist gave Char a flower, and later she swung it around while she sang the Iowa song. You can't really hear her sing it, so you'll just have to trust that's what she's doing.

Like the freaky tunnel scene in the original Willy Wonka movie, I believe children's entertainment should be tinted with a tiny element of danger. So it was lucky that a couple of clowns stopped by. Sweetie Pie is about to turn over the large playing card that hangs around her/his neck. It's her/his "diamond" necklace.

This clown didn't talk. He just smiled, leaned too far into our personal space, and frantically waved his four fingers up and down.

Ack. I'm doing it again. Maybe it's time to end this post.  Let me just honestly state how much we loved the Beaverdale Fall Festival. The weather was awesome, the people were great, and the parade was the first thing Charlotte talked about when she woke up on Sunday morning.

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