Yesterday we taught the boys about the great American pastime of BLOWING STUFF UP. Liam has always been a little timid around fireworks, Ewan, however, screeched with an unimaginable glee and tore off with a caveman-like wonder towards whatever direction he saw fire. Chris and I were SO PROUD. In my youth, I was known as the Queen of Bottle Rocket Warfare and Chris used to fashion makeshift bombs from different parts of firecrackers. We take pyro seriously in this family.
Spend a small fortune on consumer explosives. Acceptable choices include any package with a snarling black cat on it or anything labeled "Desert Dominator." That worth celebrating should be done so with fire:
Not content with the simple Firecracker, we got the Demolition Cracker.
Allow your five-year-old child to participate (and light a fuse with the help of his older cousin, both of whom were TOTALLY SUPERVISED). Giggle as he charges away from the lit fuse like all hellfire is after him:
Take photos of your exploding dollars. The only way you could make it better is by eliminating the middleman and actually setting your money on fire:
Click for more Fourth shots.