If you name a boy Finnegan, you really oughta take him to the St. Patrick's Day parade. So we grabbed Grandma and hauled her off downtown to see the parade on what had to be one of the nicest days this town has seen in at least 120 days.
My mother is not known for her photographic prowess, but I have to admit she documented the day pretty well and it was a good time had by all.
Finnegan's favorite moment was either the giant white dog we met or the civil war re-enacters firing their muzzle-loaders. He wanted to follow them for the rest of the parade.
Miss Indiana was especially kind to take a shot with the boy, even if he seems a little stern. But when you're mama's as pretty as his, it's hard to be too impressed with beauty queens.
Even grandpa got a little irish spirit at the end of the day.