At the top of the list of ways that this year was nothing like last year, we finally made it to Kennywood. Once. The whole summer. Last year we had season passes, so you can imagine how conversations at our house have gone.
"Mom, I'm hungry. Can I have a snack and can we go to Kennywood?"
"Alexis, clean up the table, please." "Only if we can go to Kennywood."
"Mom, can we go to Paris? No? What about Kennywood?"
I'm not kidding. All of those conversations actually happened.
But at last we came around and decided to act like good parents who take their kids fun places. Alexis was, of course, overjoyed. That's putting it mildly. She strutted around with a grin on her face as she drug us from roller coaster to roller coaster.
Somewhere along the line, one thing led to another and we ended up making it to the right place just in time to see the parade. Alexis plopped down beside a friend and began to watch.
She sat intently watching the whole thing, but it was the marching bands that really caught her attention. And mine. Did I mention that they caught my attention? BECAUSE THEY DID.
This is the part where I tell you that I was a marching band kid in high school. Because of course I was. I can (still!) play pretty much every reed instrument -- clarinet, soprano clarinet, bass clarinet, oboe, and alto sax to be exact. That meant I was in high demand for all of the high school band things. There are dozens of stories I could tell you about all of those band things, but that's not the point of this all. The point is this.
The shoes.
The shorts.
The polo shirts.
WTF, PITTSBURGH?
THAT IS NOT A MARCHING BAND UNIFORM.
My head exploded as "marching band" after "marching band" sloppily clunked by in their mismatched casual wear because THAT IS NOT A MARCHING BAND UNIFORM. It bothered me so much that they were doing it wrong that I made a point to tell Alexis that they needed to wear nicer uniforms. Alexis is a big fan of matching and being dressy, so she quickly agreed.
As if to prove my point, a band finally marched around the corner mostly properly dressed.
I say "mostly" because while they remembered the ill-fitting polyester pants and the super uncomfortable jackets, they forgot their hats. Marching band uniforms include very tall, very tacky, very uncomfortable hats that resemble Q-Tips. It's in the Laws of Marching Band Uniforms manual on page 63.
As the legit Marching Band rounded the corner, Alexis leaned over and told me that she liked their "outfits" better. "But, mom, they need hats," she said. YES, CHILD, THEY DO.
"And they should have pompoms on their shoes," she continued. YES, CHILD, THEY SHOULD.
"Oh, and I think they need glitter," she finished.
And THAT is how a legit marching band uniform could get worse. Right there. That's it. Future generations better hope Alexis doesn't grow up to be a marching band uniform designer.