Fireworks were the name of the game, as my in laws live on a lake where the men try to out do each other and themselves from year to year. While the littles are happy with sparklers and fire crackers...
(yes, those look huge. no, he wasn't allowed to light them himself)
The bigger boys channeled Tim Taylor and started throwing around plywood, mortars and construction adhesive for their display.
Yes, we all still have our fingers and toes. All of the big stuff gets done on the end of the dock with the smaller dudes safely tucked away on the porch.
With fireworks done on the 3rd, the 4th was left for the Indian River parade, where Henry smiled and waved his little heart out and was rewarded by candy flung at his little person from horseback.
The Kett-o-thon, wherein we flung marshmallows at each other, raced with eggs on spoons and played an old Scottish peg throwin game called Kubb.
And took our annual ridiculous family picture in from of the Parrott's Point sign. And I just noticed that they spell 'parrot' with 2 't's and that is going to drive me crazy from now on. Why would they do that? Let's just pretend the guy that discovered the neighborhood's last name was Parrott, shall we?
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