It was always a parade, and I always wanted to be the star.
The Halloween, Thanksgiving, and epic Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/New Year's parades came and went, and I remained relegated to the sidelines. Below is an artist's rendition of my suffering. I should note that I usually exaggerate and sometimes straight up lie on this blog. In my MS Paint version of events, all of the parade leaders are men. It is a cheap trick designed to make you just as outraged as I was, but it wasn't really the case. While I'm at it, I should also note that none of my classmates donned a diaper to portray Baby New Year, and I did not actually wear a dashiki.
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| I got you, Babe. |
That epic Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/New Year's parade was the final straw. What would you do if you were stuck in one place and every holiday was exactly the same, and nothing that you did mattered? I vowed that next time, I would be the star. I didn't care if I had to lie, cheat, steal, or kill; those nursing home residents would experience my talent. My opportunity would come on Groundhog Day.
My teacher started presenting her vision for the Groundhog Day parade in mid-January. She wanted it to be led by the noble groundhog itself.
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| I'm lying. |
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| I'm still lying. |
Okay, here's where it all starts to fall apart. I knew I needed to somehow come up with a bear costume without anyone knowing that I'd lied, but I didn't actually have a plan going forward. Basically, I just hoped that a bear costume would randomly appear in my house. I honestly think that towards the end I had convinced myself that I was already the proud owner of a bear costume.
My mom picked me up from school a few days before February 2nd, and my teacher started talking to her about the wonderful contribution I was making to the rec room parade.
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| Reaction shot. |
But whatever, because my mom took me home and made me a bear costume in like, 48 hours. Thanks, Mom.
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| High-fiving a million angels. |
