I Don't Actually Love a Parade, But I Seem to End Up at Them from Time to Time
In the twenty years (off and on) I’ve lived in the East Bay, it never once occurred to me to even consider going to the Solano Stroll, but apparently once you have a child it becomes the thing you do every year. In fact, the last two years we’ve had actual reasons to go. Last year, Baby Dog was a Grand Marshall. This year, Mama Dog was working a table for her employer.
Last year, Baby Dog was only two months and change old for the stroll, so she probably didn’t get much out of it. This year she was much more aware of her surroundings, pointing out each and every woof that passed by. The biggest moment for her was when she got her very own balloon. Her first balloon. Daddy was pretty proud of it, too, because the balloons were being given out at a table set up by some petition drive or other, and I got my girl a balloon without having to sign the damn thing. “Are you a Berkeley voter?” the petition lady asked. “Sorry, no, I’m not an American citizen. And she’s [indicating Baby Dog] not old enough yet.” This is one of the areas where my disfranchisement is offset by a little bonus. I can honestly tell any petition gatherer that no, I’m not a registered voter and in fact it would be illegal if they tried to register me. I suppose you can try saying that if you actually are a citizen, but I think there’s more savour to it not having to tell a lie. I also get out of jury duty, and I don’t think you could fib about your citizenship there.
We met the Pirates at Mama Dog’s booth and walked either up (according to me) or down (according to Papa Pirate) to Walker’s Pie Shop for our second annual lunch-at-Walker’s-during-the-stroll. Baby Dog obligingly fell asleep on the way to the restaurant and had her daily nap right through lunch and on until we were back in the car. The Pirates were apparently occupying a different time zone, because Baby Pirate not only didn’t fall asleep but was right miffed she wasn’t allowed to explore the entire restaurant on foot.
Last year, Baby Dog was only two months and change old for the stroll, so she probably didn’t get much out of it. This year she was much more aware of her surroundings, pointing out each and every woof that passed by. The biggest moment for her was when she got her very own balloon. Her first balloon. Daddy was pretty proud of it, too, because the balloons were being given out at a table set up by some petition drive or other, and I got my girl a balloon without having to sign the damn thing. “Are you a Berkeley voter?” the petition lady asked. “Sorry, no, I’m not an American citizen. And she’s [indicating Baby Dog] not old enough yet.” This is one of the areas where my disfranchisement is offset by a little bonus. I can honestly tell any petition gatherer that no, I’m not a registered voter and in fact it would be illegal if they tried to register me. I suppose you can try saying that if you actually are a citizen, but I think there’s more savour to it not having to tell a lie. I also get out of jury duty, and I don’t think you could fib about your citizenship there.
We met the Pirates at Mama Dog’s booth and walked either up (according to me) or down (according to Papa Pirate) to Walker’s Pie Shop for our second annual lunch-at-Walker’s-during-the-stroll. Baby Dog obligingly fell asleep on the way to the restaurant and had her daily nap right through lunch and on until we were back in the car. The Pirates were apparently occupying a different time zone, because Baby Pirate not only didn’t fall asleep but was right miffed she wasn’t allowed to explore the entire restaurant on foot.
posted by PapaDogDuvalier | 9:46 PM
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