Good Old Days

This last weekend, we went down to PG for the "Good Old Days," one of the town's "major" festivals (i.e. two-block parade, local bands, two-block arts-and-crafts/food booth festival).  Seamus is obsessed with watching fire truck parades on YouTube, so he had fun going with his grandparents to watch a real-life parade with some fire trucks.  There were also members of the local high school marching band and dance troupe, local kids marching for the library, and old classic cars.  Oh, and belly dancers, the Senior Center tap class brigade, and the Castroville artichoke queen -- you know, your typical parade fare.  What's a parade without belly dancers on a float?

We stood across the street from the fire station to walk the parade, and Dude got a new junior firefighter sticker.  Here we are:

He then spent much of the next day and a half standing up on my parents' couch and looking out their front window onto their very quiet street, announcing "Fire truck!" Or playing with my dad in his studio, looking out the window into the backyard and pointing out "Fire truck!" Or, maybe he wasn't announcing or pointing out; maybe it was wishful thinking?  An attempt to summon?  Or maybe "Gah Guck" doesn't mean fire truck after all -- maybe it means outside? Red? Awesome? Music? I don't know; I'm a little confused.

But he had some good parade-watching time, hanging out in the studio time, playing on the porch time, going to the park time, and general lots-of-attention-from-grandma-and-grandpa time.

You could tell he had a great time, because when we drove home on Sunday afternoon, he looked like this:

When we got home, he ran delightedly through the apartment to the living room, and pointed right at his red fire truck: "Gah guck!" He then ran to the window, climbed up on his stepstool, and looked out at the crowded city streets.  "Ck! Ck!" he shouted.  I think it means truck.  But, you never know.