Parades and Festibals

At our house everything is either a parade or a festival (which Mason pronouces "festibal" - just like Marcus used to. It's cute - I refuse to correct him). If we walk from the bedroom to the kitchen, it's a parade. If we have people over to eat dinner, it's a festival. In fact, we invited the grandparents over to eat the morel mushrooms last night, and all day Mason prepared for the Mushroom Festibal. He said, "I'll play the music and Grammy can dance." Today, he's preparing for a neighborhood parade. He's creating his list for invitations and I just heard him say that we need to invite Annica and Annica's bird. He also plans to invite his (imaginary) sister. I hadn't heard about her in awhile, but I guess she's still around. He has a makeshift clipboard made from cardboard and a chip clip. He's taking notes and informed me that he needs it because he's the Grand Marshall. Where does he get this stuff? Truth be known - he gets it from me. I'm a festival/parade girl at heart. I suppose it's a small town thing. I come from a town that has a Labor Day festival with a parade so short it literally goes around the block twice - I am not kidding. I still have my baton, and though Blake won't let me twirl it in the yard for fear of what the neighbors will think - I still twirl it inside sometimes. So I guess I have taught my kids to love parades and festivals...I mean festibals. Hey! Maybe I'll twirl my baton in Mason's parade today. The neighbors already think we're weird.