As is our tradition, on the Fourth of July we have a family breakfast. Usually this is up in the mountains, but I am lazy. The backyard works for me, almost as well as the mountains, and it's a heck of a lot easier. (My father is turning over in his grave right now. Sorry, Daddy.)
This year we had LaDale, Mema, Telima, Tyler, David, Bradley, me, and assorted children (eleven in all). David made his divine stuffed french toast (ooooooh, so good), and we had fruit, bacon, and juice. It was actually a pretty mild morning for July--the clouds didn't burn off until eleven, and the temperature stayed nice until after that. (And then the rain returned that night to put a damper (pun intended) on fireworks.)
After breakfast, Aunt LaDale wowed the kids with her awesome film canister rockets. I got some adorable pictures of the kids' reactions, I'll put them up tomorrow.
Bradley was feeling ill that evening--probably with heat exhaustion, from painting the eaves in the heat--and David and I were just tired. The idea of going out in the rain to watch other people set off fireworks was NOT appealing. However, the kids were so excited that I couldn't tell them no.
Leaving Yum Yum behind, I took the older seven kids out to see fireworks. I had intended to stay in our yard, but we couldn't see anything. So we started to walk a little down the street, and ended up two blocks away at my friends' houses. They generously allowed to watch their firework show, and even gave the kids each a little box of poppers. (Thank you a million times over, Steinfeldts, Davies, and Griffiths!)
And then I lugged the kids back home and put them all to bed, multiple times. As you might expect on Independence Day.
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