There is something about a city or town’s Christmas parade that really does get you in the Christmas spirit.

Maybe it’s the floats depicting the nativity scene and Christ’s birth, or maybe it’s the bands playing an assortment of your favorite Christmas tunes that get your holiday juices flowing.

But, for me, it is the children wearing the Santa hats, elf ears, blinking Rudolph noses and those small children carefully adorned in a robe, depicting a shepherd.

Whatever the costume or apparel, it seems when it comes to Christmas cotour, parents, guardians and loved-ones of these children had obviously forgotten a promise they once made to themselves when they were children.

That promise goes something like this. “When I am a grown up, I will never make my children wear this.” And with each generation, the promise is broken and the cycle repeats itself.

Although I was not there, I am certain that neither of the wise men were wearing Nikes when bringing gifts to the Christ child.

But, maybe this observation of mine, and my laughter each time I see a child adorned with angel’s wings and holding on for dear life on the back of a hay trailer, goes back to my own childhood.

For some reason, my parents thought it was a good idea I dress like a present for my hometown’s Christmas parade and help represent my class. That’s right, a present.

I walked the 43.6 miles (at least it seemed that far) wearing a box with a whole cut out for my head to fit through, two arm holes and a section for my torso to fit through.

The box was wrapped and the bow was placed squarely on… my head. Merry Christmas, little Timmy … you’re a present.

So with the annual Selma Christmas parade now in our rearview mirror and the Christmas season officially under way in Selma, we can now turn our attention to finishing up our shopping and spending time with family.

And yes, I still hold a grudge for that evening in Robertsdale wrapped as present.

My parents still have some explaining to do.