Sam loved the Help Santa Toy Parade. He waved at everyone who looked his way with such enthusiasm that I suspect he was secretly auditioning for a position on one of the floats. I can almost imagine him participating some year, especially since several of the people around us were keeping their eyes peeled for dads and sisters and friends and neighbours parading past in costumes, marching bands, and firefighter uniforms.
It was a beautiful day in Ottawa: chilly enough for Santa's appearance to be appropriate, but with that brilliant blue sky that graces only the best winter days. We nabbed a curbside seat at Bank and Fourth, snuggling up together in the sunshine to watch the sites. Not one to crane expectantly for a view up the street, Sam was content to let the parade come to him. In fact, he stood up in excitement only a few times: to check out a Clydesdale-drawn float, to track a crazy Spartacat through the crowd, and to wave to Santa. 
And he burst onto the street itself just once, and that was in shocked delight at the sight of a Star Wars float complete with candycane-armed Storm Troopers (why stop at Peace on Earth?).
And he burst onto the street itself just once, and that was in shocked delight at the sight of a Star Wars float complete with candycane-armed Storm Troopers (why stop at Peace on Earth?). Sam had asked maybe three (or five) times if he'd be getting a gift at the parade, and I'd explained that this was a special chance for fortunate families to 
help out those who didn't have enough to make a beautiful, exciting Christmas for their kids. He quietly accepted the concept of "helping Santa," but I don't think it meant anything to him until he saw the Boy Scouts gathering presents from the crowds and running them back to the Toy Mountain float. At that point, he'd desperately wanted to have something to offer. I told him that we'd brought coins instead for dropping into the boots and stockings carried by the firefighters who present this parade.
help out those who didn't have enough to make a beautiful, exciting Christmas for their kids. He quietly accepted the concept of "helping Santa," but I don't think it meant anything to him until he saw the Boy Scouts gathering presents from the crowds and running them back to the Toy Mountain float. At that point, he'd desperately wanted to have something to offer. I told him that we'd brought coins instead for dropping into the boots and stockings carried by the firefighters who present this parade. Sam cleaned out my wallet, flagging down those firefighters repeatedly. At first, I wondered if the reciprocal c
andycane had something to do with that, but he declined the offer on the third donation. He wasn't in it for the sweets. As we trailed behind Santa's float in the wake of the parade, Sam asked me if I thought enough money had been collected to allow Santa's workshop to make extra presents for the kids in poor homes. How come I hadn't hit on that twist while I was fumbling for an explanation as to why Santa Claus—a toymaker—needed gifts and cash from us? To have extra presents for some of the kids on his long, long list. Of course. Thanks, Sam, for a sweet memory.
andycane had something to do with that, but he declined the offer on the third donation. He wasn't in it for the sweets. As we trailed behind Santa's float in the wake of the parade, Sam asked me if I thought enough money had been collected to allow Santa's workshop to make extra presents for the kids in poor homes. How come I hadn't hit on that twist while I was fumbling for an explanation as to why Santa Claus—a toymaker—needed gifts and cash from us? To have extra presents for some of the kids on his long, long list. Of course. Thanks, Sam, for a sweet memory. 
1 comment:
Makes clear the meaning of the nickname 'Sweetheart'. Love that boy.
Post a Comment