Sage recently rode on a float in the Bean and Bacon Days parade. (“Bean and Bacon Days” might not sound illustrious to outsiders, but to denizens of Augusta–home of a Bush’s Beans factory–this festival is a point of community pride.)
Sage wasn’t thinking about local pride, though–he was just thinking about how to maximize his candy haul despite not being able to dart out and collect thrown sweets as the onlooking children were doing. He had a plan, though.
He waited until he saw Paul and me, sweltering in the sun next to the Lions Hall. Then, with a technique that might have won him a second glance from any baseball coach in the audience, he proceeded to hurl fistful after fistful of Smarties in our general direction. His intention was unspoken but obvious: If we were good parents, we WOULD collect the candy for him.
We didn’t; we had spent almost two hours baking in the sunlight–at first gentle, then remorseless–to see Sage ride in the parade. As far as we were concerned, we had done our parental duty already.
Fortunately for Sage, there was plenty of candy still lingering on the streets. He and Emery (who was visiting and had also ridden in the parade) plucked it from the ground with the eager devotion of ardent environmentalists. From a distance, they could have been mistaken for tree huggers dedicated to cleaning up litter.
Fortunately, I don’t think anyone noticed that avarice, not love of the Earth, was driving their motivation to clean the streets. It will be our little secret.