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I love Carnival. Okay, I despise the frat-boy/bead-flasher mentality that suffuses the Bourbon Street corridor in the weeks leading up to Fat Tuesday. And I could do without the parking problems caused by Toms, Dicks, and Harrys from Keokuk to Kookamunga driving down “to see the Mardi Gras” in their RVs. But other than that, Carnival’s great fun: the balls, the parties, the parades, the costumes… Here, we can be kids as long as we want.

This morning, thanks to my bio-mom, Callie, I learned that my love of Carnival is hereditary.