On July 4th we usually find ourselves in Sentinel. Whether it’s standing parade-side on Main Street with our plastic, candy bags ready for collection or sweating it out at the park before retreating to the coolness of my grandmother’s house, for the better part of 25 years, I’d say I’ve been there more times than not. And now my own family is joining in the tradition.
Up until now, we’ve just been visitors, and for the last four years, visitors with little kids. Kids to chase and corral in a crowded park, to keep from getting pounced under prancing horse hoofs, to avoid concussions at the horseshoe pit.
Our boys faintly remember the parade from last year. They remember the candy and all the cousins being with them. They remember the earth shattering sirens on the emergency vehicles that had them ducking for cover in nervous angst. And that’s about it, after all they were only two and three. But this year was a little different. This year we were locals, and we seemed to be right in the middle of it all.
Being a year older-practically grown-I suppose is one reason (in my sleep deprived state of delirium) that I agreed they could be in the parade this year. At first, it might not sound so absurd-two little boys riding in a parade. But let me rephrase. This year, our boys drove in the parade, or raced might be a better word.
After discovering that Fisher Price and John Deere make child-size, battery-powered toys big enough for kids to actually climb into the driver’s seat and cruise, we have been unstoppable. Not at home, mind you. I can’t keep up with socks and shoes, not to mention a three and four year old with their own set of wheels. But having friends with cool toys is a plus-except possibly if they’re on a parade route with lots of people, loud tractors, huge trucks and large animals. Definitely too much traffic for the inexperienced four year old. Hindsight tells me this now. But at 8 a.m. on Saturday morning, it seemed like a good idea.
So there we were, Cooper on a battery powered four-wheeler and Brisco at the helm of a miniature gator. I thought surely they would be ok with dad just feet behind in a man-sized golf cart. And I really had myself convinced until I saw my four year old passing traffic on Main.
I could see from a distance that someone was attempting to pull ahead of the pack. It wasn’t until I heard the family sitting just to the east laughing about the little speed racer that I realized, yep, that’s my kid. I stepped out in front of him, just as he was about to pass the floats, and said, “Cooper! What in the world are you doing way up here?” I could see on his face that my question was enough to almost send him over the edge. He puckered up and started to tear and through his whine I could just make out, “Well Daddy said I could!” Of course.
So I blindly stepped aside to watch my first born nearly take out the children next to us in his attempts to pass every entry in the parade so that he could be the first to cross that finish line.
I turned my attention to Brisco, the three-year old driver I thought I should be worrying about, only to see him playing bumper cars with a little green tractor. It was almost more than I could take, but at least dad was only a few feet away. That really put my mind at ease.
It wasn’t until later in the day that I realized how out of control the whole scenario really was. Comments like, “Cooper would get right up on the back of that bumper and then slam on his brakes.” or “I was gonna jump out of the pickup and stop him if he tried to pass someone on the highway.” And Brisco was caught trying to drive and pick up candy off the road at the same time, although that should come as no surprise to anyone who knows Brisco. It can really make a mother check her sanity after it’s all said and done.
In the end, it was a day filled with new family traditions and unforeseen learning experiences for this naïve mom. 1. Riding kamikaze around a cabin in the country does not qualify one to drive in a parade. 2. Multi-tasking behind the wheel of a moving vehicle is not in the male, Smith genes. 3. We are still too young and “auditorily sensitive” to enjoy the beauty of fireworks.
Of course, there’s always next year.
And that’s All in a day’s work!
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