Our 4th is always verrrrrry TAME. We live in the country, so we can look across a field in every direction and see other people’s huge displays, and we can light 72 sparklers and 97 smoke balls in our own yard while we make s’mores and eat too many Bomb Pops. We play games (badly but dramatically) of wiffleball and volleyball and eat ice cream cones and take lots of pictures.

I never really got too into the 4th of July. I don’t remember doing anything all that fun in high school or college. Once I became a mother, though, the day became all about the kids. Will the kids be scared? What would they enjoy? How long will they be able to stay up (it gets dark so late, geez)?

It’s funny how things evolve from year to year. Or maybe we’ve learned what the kids will tolerate and stock up on those things? Up until this year, one kid was always too scared to get anywhere near the fireworks. This year, except for the loud bangs that Henry can do without, everyone was in on the holding of the sparklers and the buzzing of the bees.

This year, I personally also thought about super fun stuff like, how many ice cream cones and gluten free s’mores can I eat before My Fitness Pal comes out of my phone and slaps me across the face?

But it’s fun to have my parents live so close that they can walk over and enjoy a very laid back, extraordinarily tame 4th of July with us, and then walk home when the bugs start eating us, the sparklers are all gone, and the kids start to get cranky.