They say a picture speaks a thousand words. So instead of telling you how much fun I had at Mardi Gras, I thought I'd just show you this picture:
But wait! That was just from Sunday! Check out this picture from Tuesday:
OK, so maybe that second picture needs a little more explanation.
A couple of years ago my mother-in-law bought a hot dog outfit for Annie. Our intention was to dress her up as a Lucky Dog for Mardi Gras or Halloween, but she never quite fit into it at the right moment. So instead of buying a bigger sized hot dog outfit, Betty and I strategically timed the birth of our second child to jive with Mardi Gras so that our son could wear the hot dog outfit on St. Charles Avenue.
As for me, I dressed up as Ignatius J. Reilly from the Pulitzer Prize-winning book A Confederacy of Dunces, which takes place in New Orleans.
As any well-read Tantrum reader knows, Ignatius J. Reilly goes on to become a Lucky Dog salesman (but eats all of his hot dogs instead of selling them). So since Peter dressed up as a hot dog, I felt compelled to dress up as Ignatius J. Reilly. And if you don't think that's clever, you're not alone: nobody knew who I was, even though I wore a name badge.
So much for being a New Orleans icon.
But it's all good, because I got to grow out a sweet mustache for four days.
Then kiss Betty with it!
Anne rounded out our outfits as the Ketchup. And if you're one of those people who thinks that hot dogs should never be adorned with ketchup, you should know that practically everyone who saw Peter asked, "Hey! Where's the ketchup?!"
Betty and I worked really hard on the Lucky Dog signs for the sides of the kids' wagon. and by "Betty and I" I mean of course just "Betty." I put her to work, then told her that if she didn't make the signs perfect then I wouldn't shave my mustache.
With Betty dressed as a tourist who wants to buy a Lucky Dog, we walked up and down St. Charles Avenue with the kids in the wagon. I held Peter and every time we passed a bunch of cute girls, I would hold Peter out to them, show the girls his hot dog outfit, and say, "Look at the size of my son's wiener!" (Because his outfit had a wiener down the middle of it.)
But at the end of the day, it wasn't about the outfits, the huge wiener costumes or the fancy homemade signs on the sides of the wagon. It was about the kids having a good time. So we put them up in the wagon well away from the street and screamed our butts off for beads. And had a great Mardi Gras!
So I got to got to dress up, ask hot girls if they were impressed with the size of my son's wiener, grow out a mustache, and most importantly, spend time with my kids doing something memorable. It sounds like I'm the luckiest dog of all!
To Serve Man, with Software
3 months ago