We happen to live just a couple blocks from one of the largest fireworks shows in the
I read a book in the 3rd grade about a kid who went blind from playing with fireworks and he got a really cool Seeing Eye dog that was fidelity incarnate. I never quite got past the ‘blind from playing with fireworks’ part. I like the professional displays, especially when that boom sinks into your chest and resonates with your heartbeat. However, when kids start pulling out the mega packages and the matches, I get a little spooked. Considering that every year there are half a dozen wild fires in my area of the woods alone due to fireworks, I get even more spooked.
One year, Other Half and his friend were setting off a bunch of fireworks right next to an open, bone-dry field. The field was adjacent to multi-million dollar homes. S-M-E-R-T. His stupid friends had brought stupid illegal flying fireworks. My blood pressure was sky high for 2 hours; the palpitations had to have been visible. Nothing happened, which I was slightly disappointed about. I kind of WANTED a fire to start in the field so they’d knock off lighting things on fire. It would have shown them. Maybe I wouldn’t have to participate in another pyromaniac’s delight the next year. I guess I’m happy the field didn’t catch fire; they make you pay for the cost of fighting the fire if you start it. I would have hated that. Who wants to spend money you could have spent on shoes, or baguettes, fixing some over grown Boy Scouts’ mistake? Not I!
So right now we’re inside, waiting for the fireworks to start. El Guille has brought all the kitchen chairs into the living room and is leaping in his Lightening McQueen undies from chair to chair, to coffee table to chair, to couch. It’s like I’ve never read him about monkeys jumping on the bed, and I HAVE, twice a night every night for the past three months. I guess he took it as instructional rather than cautionary. He’s also flapping his arms like bird wings as he jumps. It serves me right for letting him watch Winged Migration. Next time he can go back to watching Faces of Death 2 like a normal three-year-old.
Tiff-fi-fay just showed up with her girls and sparklers. Sparklers. I think I can deal with that. Happy Independence Day, America! Let's go blow stuff up.