My Sunshine is a real "sparkler"... on the Fourth of July AND every other day of the year! Have a "Sunny" Sunday!
Dear Child/Teenager/or Child-like-teenager-like Adult,
I love the 4th of July, and heaven knows no one likes the prospect of small explosives more than yours truly, but I am telling you right now YOU NEED TO SIMMER DOWN (best said with a southern accent, so that is sounds like, "Simma dawn") with the fireworks!
As a child, I adored this wonderful time of year where we remember our amazing country we live in and all the men and women that serve in our military. I couldn't wait for the sun to go down and the fireworks to begin. I loved the junk we ate while enjoying the show, I loved the fact that we got to stay up waaayyyy past bed time; it was awesome. Speaking of military personnel. I feel this would be a good time to tell you about my Grandpa. He was a World War II veteran. He was IN the Battle of the Bulge (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Battle_of_the_Bulge), he didn't sit in some high school history class reading about, he was IN it. When he returned from the war he was physically unharmed, however, he was terribly shell shocked from being on the front lines during such a serious time of fighting in that war. Loud noises, such as balloons popping, doors slamming, or cars back firing, sent my poor old gramps diving for cover--hip replacements and all. Imagine how dreadful he found this time of year. Rockets red glaring and bombs bursting in airing left him as jumpy as a 5-year-old on a pogo stick (trust me on this point of reference). So, are you getting the irony? A holiday specifically designed to honor our veterans ended up somewhat traumatizing him. I didn't understand it...until now. Kind of.
You see, my children have the stomach flu. Not just any old stomach flu, we're talking the "armageddon" of stomach flus. If regular stomach flus were guppies, this one would be a full grown humpback whale. The conversation between my husband and I went something like this yesterday:
Me: "Good golly, we're gonna need a priest."
Husband: "What like 'last rites' kind of priest?"
Me: "No, no, like 'exorcise the demons' kind of priest"
Husband: (long pause while he considers this) "I'll get the yellow pages."
Me: "Nice try, but the yellow pages can wait. Now help me strip off these pillow cases...again."
So, you can imagine how traumatized I have been, when upon finally getting my poor sick babies settled in their beds for some much needed rest, you start with your loud popping and cracking of the fireworks at 11:00 on July 7th?? I'm not asking you to forgo the sparklers, I'm just asking you to please, for love of all that is good, limit your activities to the hours before 10:00. If you continue to kick up the kind of ruckus we've been experiencing these past couple of nights, you should know that I have a rolling pin and a temper and I'm not afraid to use them. Keep in mind that you shouldn't be difficult to locate as you keep sending up "signal flares" that make tracking you a cinch (rubbing my hands together evilly). Seriously, SIMMA DAWN NOW.
Thank you for your cooperation in this matter,
(Patriot, Proud Granddaughter, and EXHAUSTED Mommy)