They are all pyromaniacs. All of my kids. They love fire.
This morning my middle mister brought the box of matches to me while I was brushing my teeth and asked, "Can I light one?" That scares me. It is a good thing we have a fire fighter who lives two doors down. We may need his assistance one of these days.
I have been entertaining children the last three days by making trips to the firework stand to purchase goods. In the daylight only smoke balls, snakes, and piccolo peets, work well, so after lunch we spend a few moments - playing with fire, I mean fireworks.
Yesterday a cop appeared in front of my house just as I was clearing the shrapnel from the street. I wasn't nervous, and my heart wasn't pounding because I wasn't doing anything wrong. He simply asked if we could hold off lighting any more fireworks until the 4th of July. Evidently the smoke billowing down the street was a distraction for him as he sat in his patrol car waiting for stop sign violators.
I agreed to stop and my youngest cried. He truly is obsessed with fireworks.
Tonight we will be lighting off "The Nite Thriller," all 25 pieces. I just hope my kids don't blow a brain cell waiting for the sky to get dark. That is the worst part - waiting.
Happy Fourth of July!
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