After a full day of parades two weekends before Mardi Gras Day, Liam woke up unable to walk. He couldn’t come down the stairs – he couldn’t bend his left hip or leg at all. I thought maybe it was a parade injury – too rough up and down off my shoulders or something. A quick trip to the urgent care revealed that it was not the simple dislocated/pulled hip or groin muscle that I thought it was. They did some Xrays and did some wiggling of the various joints and ultimately concluded that I needed to take him to the ER immediately . . . which was disconcerting and…

So picture me a little frazzled, with a varied and lovely network of tan lines (because who remembers sunscreen in February?), wading through drifts of cheap plastic beads, moon pies, empty Bud Light cans, fried chicken bones, and purple, green and gold feathers. (And drained Gatorade bottles. We did remember to stay hydrated.) The season has come and gone, and I did much of it alone, as the Prof had a book deadline that sent him to the office many, many nights and weekends. The boys and I love parades, and Jack is big enough these days to be pretty helpful vis a vis lifting and hefting stuff, so I felt confident…