Monday, September 21, 2009

It Wasn't a Black Parade

I took the boy to see the marching band(s), but I didn't ask him to be the savior of the broken, the beaten, and the damned.

(That's a reference to a song by a band called My Chemical Romance, Mom.)

He loved standing in the box office line. He pointed out to the girl behind us that her shoes don't flash very well. Then he jumped and jumped and jumped to demonstrate how well his flash.

He loved climbing up through the stadium to find seats. He tried very hard to find the announcer. He was a bit puzzled by the National Anthem. He pointed out the flags. He pointed out the tubas! He asked if he could go on the field.

When the first band started, he was entirely rapt for about 10 solid minutes.

And then it was time to go find a snow cone. A purple snow cone.

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