Pyro? Maybe not.

Give a man a medical degree and all of a sudden everything becomes a safety hazard. Trampoline? Broken limbs. Motorcycles? Death. Fireworks? Blown off body parts. Yes, that is the fear this year. This coming from the man that 3 years ago tied 30 sparklers together and jimmy-rigged a contraption off the side of our mailbox just to see what would happen. Here in Missour-a nothin' is illegal when it comes to this glorious holiday. (pertaining to fireworks that is) You haven't truly enjoyed the 4th until you've celebrated in a state where roman candles and screaming rattlers are a part of familiar vocabulary. Usually Shawn is counting his pennies and trying to bargain with me how much money should be allotted for this pyro-technic display he will perform. "It's for the children Jayne." That's the one that usually gets me. This year has been different. He's been moonlighting in a lot of ER's around the area, and seen countless surgeries involving some sort of explosive. We do not have one single firework in our possession as of this minute. Ethan has been saying for the past two weeks when we drove down the main drag that we need to purchase fireworks. This town has more fireworks for sale than the entire state of Utah. Three days ago I even jumped on the bandwagon and have been trying to get my husband out the door to one of these tents with the kids. I've threatened that I would go alone and get them if he refused. Why should we all suffer because he now knows what can really happen when a firework misfires? He finally relented and is headed out the door with three kids in tow. (Landon needs a nap so I volunteered to be the one to stay home). I'm curious to see if he actually holds true to what he's been saying for the past two weeks. If I truly know my dear sweet pyro-at-heart husband, he'll come home having spent more money then I deemed appropriate to spend. After all, you can take the boy away from the fireworks, but you can't take the fireworks out of the boy. Or something like that.