Burn, Baby, Burn!

The Fourth of July weekend. What does that mean to you?

To us it means celebrating the nation’s birth with family, friends, food, and fireworks!

The girls were psyched for a party day. So, envisioning a late night, mommy tried to invoke a nap time courtesy of Benadryl. It failed.



My parents opted to brave the craziness and join us from Virginia for the festivities. Brave souls.





Dinner was grilled even with the interruptions from Grandpa….



firework loot was examined,



and food consumed.

Burnmaster Brian



was ready and waiting when we witnessed fire outside…

What?

Alex and our neighbor started the redneck firework version and burned steel wool on a coat hanger.

Yep. Seriously.

After the fast redneck show, we headed to pre-selected neighborhood spot to shoot our illegal, out of state, Alabama fireworks.

But our spot was not spray painted with our name in case the cops showed up.

We were not there. We were not there. Got it?

Abby’s job, assigned by the big kids, was to watch for the cops. Abby as a lookout? Lovely. She can’t even see dust on the ground before the trips over it.

Anna Grace was pretty freaked by the concept of the police showing up. She was worried about being arrested and tossed in the joint. At one point a car approached us….and she yelled, “Is that the cops??”

Poor kid. We’ve scarred her for life.

Regardless of the fear of the po-po, we pressed forward with our fireworks display.

Teens were taught the skill of how to light roman candles and other fun, dangerous things.




The small group



grew to over 50 neighbors before the show ended.

Illegal fireworks are amazing.

Of course, if we didn’t live in Georgia, they wouldn’t be illegal, but I digress.

The Fourth of July wouldn’t be the same without food, friends, family, fireworks, and fun drinks.

And, the time to remember how our country began.