One of Suzy's favorite songs is 'Happy Birthday'. She usually wants someone to sing it to her before bed, or 'the beautiful pink song' a.k.a. 'All Through the Night'. The 4th of July is a sort of birthday and I usually have to work really hard to resist the urge to have a giant party with loads of kids and too much Jell-o. The one year I didn't successfully resist the urge wound up with 100 people and a tent. Pete's still not talking to me. The last few years, we've scaled things back a bit (and stayed out of divorce court) and just had a few friends over for the fireworks.
Call it American ingenuity, but s'mores must be made, even if you can't reasonably start a campfire in your yard. So, we improvise. And it works. And kids garbage up on the chocolate bars because it takes so long to cook a marshmallow over open flames.
But I'm glad for the slow cook time. Because while he waits for the marshmallow to turn the perfect golden brown, he slides his hand into his pocket and looks at you. It's a new look, but you can see yourself in it - and he asks, 'Mom, do I have to eat this?'
But you forgive him after you scrape the pictures off the camera and find this one. Just for a second you feel a little bit bad that your hazel eyes won the genetic race over your husband's lovely blue eyes.
Only for a second, though.