We spent a good share of the day at Pat's house. He bbqed up some hamburgers. I ate mine with a fork. The little man accidentally headbutted me in his sleep and hit me straight dab in the lip. Swelled up bigger than it was the first time. Made my teeth hurt again and made the wound inside my mouth bleed again. Joy.
Mom didn't want to stay for fireworks so I took her home. While I was gone they got ice cream treats from the ice cream truck. The little man said he had to catch it first.
And then we spent two hours lighting fireworks. The little man really got into it and wanted to do all the things Uncle Pat did. We had small fountains, bees, odd things like poker chips and mortars. Lots of mortars. Pat said he found some six packs for under $5 apiece. Naturally they weren't the super fantastic ones, but they made a nice display. We enjoyed the more expensive ones that were going off in the neighborhood.
The little man was the only one with injuries. He fell in the neighbor's flowerbed that is filled with rocks and cut his knee. And then he got a spark stuck on one of his fingers. We told him that is what a burn feels like so don't play with fire.
Fireworks always remind me of Dad. He loved fireworks. I remember the year he shot bottle rockets over the house of a lady he didn't care for. I think they were not good neighbors to each other. But Dad sure loved those fireworks and the ones you aren't suppose to have. Like cherry bombs and firecrackers.
All in all a grand day.
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