Baby, You’re a Firework

It’s a well-know fact that the Piper loves Paty Kerry. She can’t get enough of that Firework song. “Who sings it again?” we ask.

“Paty Kerry,” Piper says. Giggle. Giggle.

So, in honor of Paty Kerry we took our own little firecracker to the Big Tent today to get some celebratory gun powder. We blew our $10 budget way out of the water when Piper saw this:

It was her fake birthday after all. After the rainbow sparklers, rainbow smoke bombs, and rainbow frog that shot rainbow sparks, we walked down to the pond’s edge for the air trooper finale. We were promised a rainbow parachute on our little army guy. He went boom and then parachuted down the hill into the woods. Piper wanted to chase him, of course, but the bushes were taller than her. Grandpa had no choice. “Kids,” he said, addressing the assembly of grandchildren, “we’re going to need the four-wheeler.” The pack trudged off to the shed for the necessary equipment. Then, they rescued our air trooper.

“Did you like the fireworks?” I asked Piper, after she came up the hill. I was hiding on the front porch. It’s best if Mommy doesn’t watch you ride a four-wheeler packed with grandchildren down a hill into the woods. I know my place. Out of sight.

“It was the best fake birthday I’ve ever had,” Piper said.

“What was your favorite part? The smoke bombs? The sparklers? I know. It was the parachute guy?”

“Nope. The four wheeler ride!” Of course.

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