This morning started off good.
I woke up smelling of the baby vomit that I slept in half the night.
Managed to get the sour milk smell out of my hair and got dressed.
Only to quickly get pinched by my evil, over-zelused brother.
It is official.
St. Patty’s day is here.
And we had plans to see a parade.
We all dressed up very warmly.
Donned our silly hats and ties.
And drove our way to Westport.
It was cold.
36 Degrees and off and on rain to be exact.
We found our spot and sat.
And sat some more.
And then we sat even more.
The parade was late.
But with hope in our hearts we continued to sit.
And if the size of the crowd was any indication of the quality of the parade we were soon to see,
Surely it would be good.
The parade sucked.
First, a car.
Then, another car.
Then a banner with a couple people walking behind it.
Shortly after my father became angry with someone who stood in front of Lincoln.
Linc and all of us had been sitting there over an hour and she pushed up to the front, squeezed in between his stroller and the barrier and stood right in front of him.
Who does that?
But dad handled it and kindly explained to her that the boy had earned his spot in the front row.
So she left.
What a lame parade.
California makes floats with roses and Kansas City can’t even make a darn float at all.
Weak Kansas City.