We had one of our favorite families over for the 4th of July. Of course, we'd all been to church in the morning and had a fellowship lunch there together already, so other than them going home to change, we were together pretty much all day.
It's been hot here. Last summer was unseasonably cool. This summer is unseasonably hot. I feel like I live on the peninsula of Virginia in the heat and humidity again.
That means the kids were able to play outside in the water and not get chilled. We hooked up a flippy sprinkler gadget to the hose that they brought, the kids made some water balloons, and they played with water guns.
Lori loves orioles, and we've been feeding them with oranges out in the back, so we (as in the grown-ups) sat in the relative cool of the house and watched them. (It's hard to get a picture with my camera, and I have no idea how to upload the pictures so you can enlarge them. The female is on the left orange.)
We had Basil Grilled Chicken, hot dogs, Cheesy Potato Casserole, Baked Beans, watermelon, cucumbers, and cupcakes for dinner.
Then because we didn't think we were stuffed enough, we had s'mores. On our new firepit. Hubby gave everyone specific directions first.
I took this picture for the messy s'more eating fingers, then I saw the fingernails when I copied it over here. Eek!
Before we did the fireworks, which has to be after 10 p.m. since it doesn't get dark here until very late (we live in the western part of the Eastern time zone), we opted for some family games. They involved water and plastic cups and Cheetos and plastic spoons. We came up with the games on our own.
They have six people. We have six people. Nice and even.
Except we didn't split up that way.
Somebody had the bright idea to line up tallest to shortest and count off 1-2-1-2... Guess who the only grown-up was that was not at the tall end of the line?
There was not one child between me and the other grown-ups. There were not two children between me and the other grown-ups. There were three. And by next year it will be four.
Poor Sparky. She had an 11-year-old taller than her (who was almost taller than me — the one who will be next year) and a 10-year-old who almost was. He and Caboose will probably be taller than her by next year.
Pretty soon it's just gonna be me and her.
Okay, then we did fireworks, and if you think the bird picture was bad, those are worse.
Just trust me that we did some, we watched some better ones farther away, and had a wonderful time.