He wanted me to say it was okay. But I wouldn’t.
I could have insisted. But I didn’t.
It was just less than two weeks till Thanksgiving. I was driving the boys to school, and I broached the topic.
Since BR was six years old, we have had the tradition to go to Manhattan on Thanksgiving to see the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. SJ had been an attendee of the parade since he was seven.
In 2016, when he turned twelve, BR decided he was not interested in going to the parade. At the time, I was surprised. Disappointed. Hurt.
But a year had passed. And while I asked the question of ‘do you want to go to the parade?’, I was sure I knew the answer. I just hoped that SJ would also not answer in the negative.
However, both boys said yes. And quickly. I was excited.
We were boys on a mission.
It was Halloween night, and my dad was late picking NG and I up. We stood waiting and waiting for him. But it was the pre-cell phone era, so all we could do was tap our feet impatiently and mutter under our breath.
Dad finally showed up – a miscommunication apparently – and got us home just before the unofficial start time for trick or treating time in my neighborhood. We quickly changed into our costumes, grabbed old pillow cases (which we used to hold candy) and started running from house to house.
We said it was all about the candy. We didn’t care about dress up. We had no patience for a costume that would slow us down. We had no interest in wowing our friends with our creativity.