One fourth of July (I think it was the summer after my son's 7th grade year) he had his first real supply of fireworks (they didn't allow personal use where we lived in California). He was so excited he could hardly contain himself. He emptied his entire supply of firecrackers into a pouch which, at one time, contained an old WWII gas mask. It was perfect for his purpose (easy to reach, light then toss). I cautioned him, had him do a few practice lights for me, and then let his do his thing. He had a small punk and started his small imaginary war.
Watching from the window I watched him warm up until his skills gradually became like an infantry soldier lobbing grenades into the hoards of approaching enemy. He ended up making a stand on the front porch and then something happened. I was keeping an eye on him since this was his first real experience with firecrackers and I suddenly heard his yell, "NO! OH, NO!" and then a whole battery of explosions started filling the air.
When I quickly stepped out the front door I saw my son's ammunition pouch bounding all over the place as multiple little explosions erupted inside the bag. My son was jumping around like he was lead dancer in Lord of the Dance, and the bag seemed to be attacking him.
The explosive dance didn't last very long as several were going off at the same time. In less that a minute the chaos subsided and the pouch died a pitiful death on the cement floor with more holes than Swiss cheese. My son dejectedly flopped down beside the smoking pouch and looked up at me with the most pitiful look I have ever seen. "Mom!" he said, "That was my entire supply of firecrackers. They were supposed to last for days."
When I asked what happened he said that he was holding the punk close to the pouch so he could light the fuzes fast, when the end of the punk broke off and fell into the bag. He went on to say, "I thought I was dead meat because I couldn't get the bag from around my neck fast enough."
This was our first year in Missouri and money was tight since I quit my good job to move my children out of LA. But, I managed to come up with enough to buy another smaller supply, knowing that my son learned a valuable lesson. I was thankful that he still had his head and all his fingers......... HERE'S HOPING YOU KEEP YOURS TOO!...........
|SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY......for |
(change in plans, next week is about something that happened today... ...
#200 - A VIEW FROM THE HOUSE FLOOR!)