I joke about dying in Richfield on the Fourth of July...
But just for total clarity, I am very serious.
When I'm 92 wheel me to main street for the parade.
When I'm 97 put in the middle of the fish grab to see the mayhem up front and personal.
And if I haven't keeled over by the time I'm 101, then just shoot me out of the canon that tolls every Fourth of July morning in my home town.
What a way to go! :)
Can you even believe I let my babies traipse into that crowd to catch trout with their bare hands?
Can you believe they survive it, year after year?
And not even just survive - but thrive and beg to go back?
You make mama so proud you little heathens. :)
Boone got an assist from a bro, but you wouldn't know from his proud grin.
Grampa rents the water slide each year to make the long hot afternoon waiting for the pyrotechnics a little bit shorter.
And in all reality, by the time the dusk finally rolls around they are pooped from climbing up and sliding down 500+ times.
I love every tradition and every fourth I spend in "The Promised Land."
And if you really want to wrap up my favorite holiday with a bow, send me down the canal with my bestie and her crew... make sure at least one kid is nailed by a low hanging branch and another is attacked by a rogue water skeeter. These are the days, my friends. :)
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