Heat, Goldfish and Bad Water - Oh, My!

I knew that my hubby had to work this morning. Yet, for some strange reason, I decided to take all three boys to a parade and festival in a tiny farm-town nearby. It was billed as the biggest parade of our county and boasted the special attraction of an Olympic medalist as Grand Marshall, leading the parade in an Indy 500 pace car. My little guys have never been to a parade, so I thought it would be a good experience.

ES had a great time hanging out with friends and getting his hair spray-painted blue. MS had a great time. YS and myself? Not so much! YS, we have found, is very sensitive to the heat. After a few moments outside, he often turns a rosy shade of pink and sweat drips from his hair. I had brought a sippy cup of water for both of the little boys and they polished them off within the first half hour.

I'm not sure exactly how long the parade route is. We simply pushed through the crowds near the first intersection until we were blocked in and couldn't really move any more if we had wanted to. Thus, we were sandwiched between a few nice older individuals sitting on the curb and a couple of people standing behind us, leaning against a building. YS was furious that I expected him to stay in the stroller (compounded by the fact that MS was walking - I didn't have the energy to bring the double stroller and plow through crowds). In an attempt to snatch a tiny bit of shade, I had pulled the stroller up next to a large pot of flowers. YS decided to express his frustration by ripping several of the petals off.

MS continued to complain that he didn't want to come to a parade. He wanted to play outside at home and catch "toadies." His attitude improved when he began to realize that the people in the parade were tossing out candy from time to time. I couldn't keep a close eye on MS, since I was people-locked (is that the equivalent of land-locked, when trapped on a parade sidewalk?), but thankfully, the older people in front of us seemed to help him out into the street to scoop up candy and often brought him some (I think they thought he was missing out, because he would tend to get one piece and then turn and run back to me in wonder showing me his new piece of candy).

All was going reasonably well (apart from the temperature - in the nineties, on pavement, in direct sunlight), until both boys drained their sippies and we experienced a five minute gap while waiting for some alumni association from the local high school to finally pass (others in the crowd were actually yelling "Hurry Up!" - I couldn't muster such boldness, but I did notice this as the beginning of the end for us!). I was concerned about YS getting heat stroke, so I told the little boys we would head back to the van, turn on the air conditioning and call ES on his cell phone.

On our way back to the van, we passed a booth selling tenderloins, ice cream and drinks. I purchased two bottles of water. I poured the first one into the two sippies, drank the last few ounces and dropped the second bottle of water in the stroller basket. Unfortunately, I saw a sign for garage sales and was, I thought, "momentarily" diverted.

This diversion ended up being a lengthy one. For, in the cordoned off street near the houses holding the garage sales, the kiddie rides were set up. After the great bargain of a large dinosaur for ten cents and a sturdy pair of rain boots (MS loves his present pair) for 75 cents, MS begged me to let him ride the ponies. I purchased 10 dollars worth of tickets and stood with YS, whining in the stroller, watching MS ride the ponies, then go down an inflated slide, then jump in a jump castle (YS finally perked up and decided to join brother for this, but only lasted 30seconds because he kept falling over when bigger kids jumped - good thing for the bargains at the garage sale, in the face of this $2 loss).

In the midst of the crowds, the heat, the whining toddler and the toddler who wanted to ride 'til the cows came home, I managed to hear my cell phone ring. ES was at a booth? house? - who knows where? - where they were giving away free boxer puppies. He wanted to know if we could "pretty-please" bring one home (this after a similar request regarding free kittens yesterday - alas, hubby is allergic to cats). I informed him that there was no way in the world I was going to greet Dad this afternoon with a pup. ES persisted and decided to call his Dad. Of course, Dad called me to say "Who gives away boxer pups? We don't know if they have papers or shots or anything. This is the last thing we need. We're going to have to say no." Thank heavens we were both on the same page on that one!

After hanging up, I noticed my own thirst and grabbed for the second bottle of water. Lawd Almighty! It was the most disgusting water I have ever tasted in my entire life. I couldn't take more than a sip. The bottle even seemed old. It looked like the label had been torn off in parts (how come I didn't notice that when I bought it? could it be the two hot, whining toddlers prattling in my ears?). When we finally connected with ES and his friends, ES begged for some water as well. I offered him my bottle, with a personal disclaimer. He couldn't drink it either.

While waiting for ES to get his hair painted blue, MS noticed a small game for a dollar (5 attempts to toss a ping-pong ball into tiny goldfish bowls). I agreed. He won. The prize was a goldfish. He was thrilled (at least it is better than the pet snake he has been begging for or the cat or the dog)!

On the way home, ES and I were having a conversation about the possible source of the bad water. We are seriously wondering if the vender refilled an empty bottle with tap water or well water. Of course, ES offered up other worse scenarios, but I chose to ignore them. I was happily drinking the warm water I had left for myself in the van, when suddenly, I dropped that as well, all over the van floor. UGH! Thankfully, no library books were doused.

I wanted to urge MS to greet Daddy with the thrilling news that we brought home a new pet. I figured he would flip out and think that I had decided to give in and get the dog. Alas, MS greeted him with the fish in hand (and actually carried the little plastic bag around most of the afternoon). He has been using our regular little fish tank when he catches "toadies" every day, and managed to crack the plastic on the bottom. Unfortunately, "Scooby Doo" - such a clever, unique name MS chose for his fish - will have to reside in a fish bowl (the worst place for a goldfish, I know). Odds are, he'll be dead by morning anyway! I think this is probably the first in a long line of pets for my middle son (not counting the dead cicada he identified as his pet when his teacher asked about pets)!