My kids are getting older. One is a teenager already and the other one acts like one. As such, our celebratory habits and routines have inevitably changed.
I’ve always enjoyed the Fourth of July with them, in large part because our town’s fireworks can be seen from our yard. For the past 12 years we’ve made hot dogs and hamburgers and have had little neighborhood parties. My kids and dozens of other neighborhood kids eat popsicles, catch fireflies and run around with sparklers and squirt guns in the twilight. It all ends with us sitting on the front porch watching the show, which goes off just when the kids get to the point where they can’t keep their eyes open anymore. It’s Americana cranked up to 11.
But it’s different now. We had our usual cookout yesterday and the kids enjoyed it just fine, but at around 6pm they hit me up for some money and took off for the next several hours to the high school football stadium. That’s where they set off the fireworks and have a more commercial Fourth of July festival. They hang out with their friends, buy overpriced concessions and get into some low-level mischief. I’m not gonna say that I hate the fact that I can now just hang out on my porch with an adult beverage and not have to chase children around, but I do miss it some. I miss the excitement.
The sort of excitement Clayton Kershaw showed yesterday after shutting down the Diamondbacks:
After the Dodgers’ 4-3 win over the Diamondbacks, the starting lefthander was taking questions from the media when he suddently had to jet.
“Oh, I gotta go — fireworks! I love you guys,” Kershaw said before running out of the room.
Can I adopt him? I have a lot of sparklers I didn’t get to use this year.