I would like to formally thank the firework-shooting hillbillies we live by for plunging our evening into the depths of hell last night. Ok, now that that’s off my chest, I can calmly wonder What the #$%$ is WRONG with people?
I know, I know. Fireworks are fun. Fireworks are American, sort of like apple pie. Fireworks are almost a religion when it comes to certain holidays. But seriously folks. Really? Memorial day is for recognizing our fallen soldiers. So what better way to remember them than, oh…I dunno…setting something on FIRE?!
I personally have no aversion to fireworks. In fact, as a kid, I can remember getting into numerous bottle-rocket wars with my little brother (wars in which I always cheated and he always ended up with some sort of skin-singing battle wounds). Fireworks WERE fun…until I had scaredy-cat toddlers who are convinced the sky is falling every time they hear a boom.
Jadon is scared of thunder (or “funder” as he calls it). He is also scared of water and bugs and well, pretty much everything. So you can imagine what the child thinks when our neighbors decide to launch every projectile known to man in honor of our fallen soldiers. He was pretty much convinced that we were under heavy mortar fire and that we needed to take shelter in an underground bunker to protect ourselves.
Jason did his best to calm Jadon down, but it seemed that just as he would get him settled, Billy Bob, Betty Sue, and their herd of one-toothed kin would start up again with the exploding of things in the sky. C’mon folks, can’t you give a family a break? Use a sparkler or something. Or one of those little spark-pooping chickens—because those are cool and would be a fantastic way to celebrate Memorial Day. Or at least just have one extra-large explosion and call it quits.
But enough of this all-night firefight that has my 3-year-old begging us to return him to the motherland where all he would have to worry about would be volcanoes and mudslides.
Sleep-Deprived Fireworks Opponent