Small Town Parade

You know you live in a small town when the following are in your Santa Clause Parade:
-Ride-a-mowers decorated with Christmas lights (Christmas lights on thanks to a portable generator)
-Transport trucks are used to pull all floats, big or small
-The main float is decorated with Wal-Mart household Christmas decorations
-A taxi cab, without decorations, is part of the parade
-People hand out pens and pencils instead of candy canes
-People take apple cider from strangers and drink it willingly.
-Santa is on a horse drawn sleigh big enough for one person, with four people crammed onto it so it’s impossible to see Santa
-Santa is followed by a steady stream of cars full of people who didn’t know the parade was that day.
And that, dear people, was my little monkey’s first parade. I honestly didn’t know it was going on today. Supposedly there was a little blurb about it in yesterday’s newspaper. I found out about it from the ladies at Curves this morning. I made a quick call to my parents asking them to get Monkey Man ready and was a little disappointed in it. I really shouldn’t have been. It was the best this sleepy , little, backwards town could do. I mean, this is a town that refused to let Zellers or Wal-Mart come in and okayed a Bargain Shop.
Monkey Man did like all the trucks. He’s been really into animals, cars and trucks lately. I think the car and truck thing is something that is mechanically built into him. I didn’t have “boy” toys for him. I bought uni-sex toys . Some toys were blue, but something a girl could play with too, according to society. I didn’t do it on purpose. It was just the way it worked out. Out of the blue one day Monkey was saying “vroom, vroom” and he hadn’t even said his first word yet.
I started noticing he was noticing trucks. He’s grunt at them, or squeal in delight. He loved seeing them. My mother found a walker by Little Tykes that is a Tonka Truck. Kids can either ride on it or learn to walk with it. It has a steering wheel, a shifter, blinkers, a side mirror, a horn that has four different sounds and a key, that when turned, either makes staling out noises or engine noises. Monkey loves it! The only down fall it is, Monkey man sometimes forgets he has to walk when he pushes it and he falls down. He stood up on his own one day, gave the truck a good push and face planted his self on the steering wheel. He spilt his lip, cut his tongue and sat in my lap for an hour whimpering as I kissed him all better. I was thankful he wasn’t injured more than he was and that he didn’t knock out any of his newly grown teeth.
I love the way Monkey can zone out to everything around him when he’s playing with his truck, but as soon as he passes by the three foot bunny his aunt gave him, he stops for a hug. It melts my heart every time.
It’s strange how children get attached to certain toys. I still have my first teddy bear, Koko, and my Cabbage Patch kid, Gabby. When my sister was a baby, she got attached to a stuffed cat that belonged to me. My mother was so touched when I let my sister have the stuffed cat our Oma gave me, she took me out to pick out a new stuffed animal. I got a dog. My sister really liked him too, but I wouldn’t let her have him. I never did name that dog, but I still have him. Rather, my son has him. Monkey used to sleep with a bunny that plays a lullaby. He’s had it since he was a week or two old. Steve and I used it to help him sleep. Soon, he wouldn’t sleep without it. He needed the bunny and a blankie before he drifted off. One day, that bunny was in the wash thanks to a little, upset tummy. I grabbed the dog, hoping it would do the trick for Monkey’s nap. It worked like a charm. And now he won’t give it back. Every time I put Monkey down to sleep I have to give him the dog and tuck him in with his blankie or he won’t sleep. The bunny is still in his crib too. He plays with it when he’s just waking up sometimes.
I don’t mind losing my dog to my son. I like to believe it smelt a little like me and that’s why he took to it. I have also moved Koko and Gabby to a higher, safer shelf. I’m not sure if I’m willing to give them out. Koko is so old, his stuffing is hard and crunchy. He’s has his head sewn back on numerous times. His fur has worn out in some spots too. He couldn’t handle another baby and survive. Gabby isn’t as old as Koko. I didn’t get her until I was three. I used to dress her every morning and put her into pjs every night. I remember one morning, I must have been about four years old, I put Gabby down and laid the doll clothes I had picked out across her lap. I told her to get dressed and she could come out to play. I went off to play myself. At lunchtime, I checked on her. I told her she had to get dressed if she wanted to play. I had my lunch and when to play some more. At dinnertime, I yelled at her for not being dressed yet and went to eat my dinner. At bedtime, I lectured her on the importance of getting dressed during the day. I also told her there was no need to get dressed anymore, she had to wear pjs to bed. I remember it so clearly. And I remember being so serious about it too.
Until next time….