So, we went to Home Depot.
Remind me to tell you later – when I’ve stopped twitching with anger – about how I believe choosing paint is a leading cause of divorce in this country. Or, at least in my house.
After our little outing, we came home and hung out in the kitchen while Chris made a big pot of chili.
Bean and Gracie were super excited about the 4th of July.
Well, Bean was. Gracie was more concerned about where her Kitty Kitty had run off to.
Bean’s excitement wasn’t just about the holiday, though. What he was really excited about were the fireworks Chris brought home.
He tried explaining to Gracie about how much fun we were getting ready to have, but she didn’t seem to get it.
So, we put Gracie down for her late afternoon nap and, as the sun began to set, Bean, Chris, and I headed out to the driveway to play with fireworks. We didn’t get REAL fireworks (don’t tell Bean…). We got a pack of things that sparkled and smoked and popped. “Dingy fireworks,” as Chris said. But they were the perfect size for Bean Man.
Mostly, they just whizzed and smoked and sparkled. Bean loved it all!
Then came the sparklers, and all hell broke loose. It started out pretty innocently. Chris lit the sparkler and then handed it to Bean. He thought it was pretty cool. He walked verrrrry slowwwwly with it and made big circles in the air, just like Chris showed him.
And then when the sparkler died out, Chris took the stick from Bean and set it on the ground while he got the next firework ready. But Bean decided that he wasn’t quite done with the sparkler and before we could stop him, he picked up the very hot sparkler by the very hot end.
So, the Boo Boo Bee made her appearance on the 4th of July.
Bean was a champ. He sat with his fingers on his ice cold Boo Boo Bee and insisted that we finish the fireworks before we went inside to treat his mortal wound. I don’t think Chris had ever been prouder.
“Way to take it like a man, Bean,” he said.
And then we set off more dinky, manly fireworks. After our grand finale (oooohhhh…aaaahhhhh….), we took Bean inside and tended to his wound with Neosporin and Woody and Buzz Lightyear Band Aids.
Thankfully, we were able to save the finger.
I felt bad at first. What kind of parent lets their two-year-old play with fireworks?!?! And I still kind of wonder about our judgment on that one. But, I felt a lot LESS bad when Bean held his fingers up to me and said, “COOL, MOM!”
Hope your 4th was safer and full of more responsible parenting decisions than ours!