I guess when you do the same thing for the third year in a row, it's officially a tradition. Yesterday we made our third annual trek to The Becky's house for swimming and other back yard shenanigans, (whoa, I can't believe it - I spelled that word correctly on the first try!) as well as grilled burgers for dinner and then fireworks on the back cement pad. The fireworks get set off about 2 1/2 hours before the sun actually sets. We like it better that way. Here are my favorite pix from the day. (Becky, I did not include the one of you with your finger up your nose. I like you too much to do that to you, but I do hope that at some point in our friendship you'll allow me to take one picture of you with you neither fishing for boogers nor doing a ground hog face. I've said my piece.)
The last is my favorite. My camera's battery was dying, so it was having trouble focusing, etc., and I found that to be a very happy accident.
And as for my favorite moment of the day? That had to be when, at the very near-to-fireworks hour of 7:00, there were a few splattering rain drops. The kids nearly burst with disappointment, fearing that our extravaganza would be canceled. However, after a few minutes Stomper, along with Becky's 8 year old son, came racing in the house with exciting news. They joyfully announced that they had said a prayer that the rain would go away, and then it did! Okay! Yay!
Our other tradition that is quickly taking shape is that of finishing the evening on our own front lawn, enjoying some rarely-spent time with our next door neighbors, the McGreggors, who have a 10-year-old son whom Stomper adores. Usually we're just getting home when they're starting to set off the armload of fireworks they have purchased. This year the dad, Malcom, just told us that they only got a few, so we thought we'd pitch in. We bought one measly little 7 dollar package with about 8 fireworks in it, 3 of which we set off the night before due to uncontainable excitement on the part of my kids. I felt a little sheepish handing over our small little collection, until I discovered that what Malcom meant by "only got a few" was two entire shopping bags full, not to mention some left overs from last year. Those, (plus our 5, don't forget!) meant that we were watching cascading sparks, breathing in toxic fumes and listening to the pops and screams until after 10:00. I loved Bitty. At The Becky's house, she was not able to handle the noise, and so we watched the display from the family room windows. By the time we got home, she had mustered up a little courage and wanted to watch from the lawn, albeit from a safe distance. Every time she was starting to get scared she'd furiously clap her hands and shout things like, "I love that!" "I'm happy!" "That was great!" just to reassure herself. She also spent a lot of time with her arms wrapped around my neck and saying, "I just love you, Momma Kitty!" Stomper, of course, was in heaven; his eyes glazed over in pyrotechnic delight. We've got to keep the matches away from that kid.
And with that, the kids were asleep by 11:15 and up at 10 this morning. Can't wait for the 24th!