#saturdayff When I was 9 years old, I entered the Menlo Park Centennial Parade as a bike rider I had to beg my parents to let me do it. They had even thrown the entry form away, that I brought home from school. Fortuantely, my mom and my (then) sister-in-law had enough creative energy to dress up my bike, have me put on a nice dress...
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...then I rode down Santa Cruz Avenue with the other participants. The parade terminated near the train station, where some guy with a pad and paper asked me for my name, age, etc. I didn't think anything of it at the time, and about a half hour later, my mom came by, all cranky, shoved my bike in the station wagon and "I have things to do, lets go home".
- #cryptic
The next day, kids from my school's drum corp, who had participated in the parade, came up to me and asked why I didn't accept my prize. It turned out, unbeknownst to me or my mom, that the was also a competition, and that I had won first place in my age and type division, and that there was a ceremony aftetwards.
- #cryptic
I remember trying to play it off like it was no big deal, but, inside, I was upset at my mom for insisting on leaving so early. I never did collect my prize, whatever it was, and even though I loved my mother dearly, I'm still mad at her about this.
- #cryptic