I hope everyone had a happy 4th celebration. Yes, I know it’s the 5th, but I was busy yesterday! We were invited to a good friend’s house, who was throwing something like a block party (only it was in the driveway – it just included most everyone around the block) for the 4th. It was great fun!
Picture this: Bright (hot) sunny day, lots of adults being outnumbered by lots more children, lots of good food, lots of what little Monkey called “daddy’s juice” when she was a toddler. Yeah, that’s going to come back to haunt us, I’m sure. Anyway, the kids were confined to the back yard for a while with a water hose, some balloons and a sprinkler, only occasionally escaping in an attempt to douse some unsuspecting adult. Then when that got old, they infiltrated the driveway with sidewalk chalk and races with Razor scooters, only stopping to grab a drink (NOT “daddy’s juice”) and some food. I’m pretty sure Little Man ate an entire watermelon.
Dinner was great, thanks to some considerate friends. You see, this was a BYOM (bring your own meat) get-together. Well, we forgot ours. But we didn’t forget the dessert!! At least our priorities were in line. Anyway, kind souls shared their smoked chicken (note to self: must look into this “green egg” thing), grilled chicken legs and some bacon wrapped venison tenderloin. The retired vegetarian in me said “no way you’re eating that!” but she was overruled by the current carnivore. I only had one, though, so that makes it ok, right?
When dessert was served, you would think the children hadn’t been fed since birth. Little Man and his sidekick, WB, each had 3 ice cream cone cupcakes like this. Monkey had one, too, plus some of my trifle, key lime pie, butterfinger cake and a brownie. This was just the first course of desserts. Throughout the evening, there was also ice cream and blow-pops. Well, something had to keep these kids going 3 hours past their bedtime!
Then it was time for the fireworks. Little Man watched some that were far-off, visible through the trees, but he wasn’t too enthusiastic about the ones just up the street. I think terrified would be more accurate. He had a death grip around my neck for the first, oh, 30 minutes of our amateur fireworks show. It made me wonder how he’ll do for Rockin’ the Docks tonight, when the professionals put it together. He did eventually relax, but I think that was sheer exhaustion taking over. Monkey sat with Trey a little closer to where the fireworks were being staged until some rogue rocket launcher or some-such thing went just over their heads. Then they moved back to where we were sitting. Monkey is such a little drama queen! She screamed and squealed with just about every pop and sparkle, hiding her head in my armpit like a freaked out puppy. Speaking of puppies, ours slept through the whole thing, in a friend’s lap. I think he might be deaf. That would certainly explain his lack of listening skills – or is that just because he’s a puppy?
After the first “show”, we started packing up. I wanted to be out of there before the daddies on the street started having bottle rocket wars, using the mailboxes to aim at each other’s houses. I guess that’s what happens with daddies when there’s a lot of their juice around.