Well, It's July 2, folks, and in my little corner of the world, that means fireworks are legal--at least for the next 3 days.
Which means three days of celebrating the 232nd birthday of our country by drving places petrified that I will hit a child running out into the middle of the street to shoot off his bottle rocket or that I will accidentally drive over a lit firework and blow up my entire car.
I will marvel at children who are probably young enough to be wearing diapers who are carrying around punks (did I spell that right?) without a responsible adult in sight anywhere.
I am going to be proactive this year and just make a space in our bed for J for the next three nights, as the loud "booms" way past "beddie-bye" time will surely send her running our direction.
For those of you sitting there going, "Are you kidding me? Stop being such a Scrooge! (or whatever a 4th of July wet-blanket is called) This is FUN! Kids have been doing this for years!" Have patience with me. I grew up in a larger city, where the only fireworks I got to be a part of (legally) were the mega-displays at night--park a million miles away, sit on a blanket, slap misquitos, ooh and ahh, and spend four hours trying to get out of the place. Sparklers make me nervous.
So happy Independence Day, everyone!! And Happy Birthday, America! Enjoy spending time with your families, eat lots of watermelon, wear your sunscreen/bug spray, and please be safe!
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