Our neighbor set off firecrackers last night. Exact time: 1:44 AM. I know this because the middle child came crying into our room. She told me the time between sobs. It’s not as though firecrackers are a gentle way to wake up, you know. Sort of like someone pouring ice water on you.
Here’s the thing. He’s a perfectly normal person, very enjoyable, in fact. He’s in his mid-40’s and he and his family are our best neighbor-friends. I really love them. Or, did, until this. Now, I’m sure he has some sort of rational-to-his-mind explanation. Hal thinks it has something to do with May Day, maybe some war tribute thing. I’m thinking, salute the flag and go back to bed, but don’t set off firecrackers when I’m asleep, thank you very much. And certainly don’t wake up my children. Waking up my children puts you on my “punishable by death” list. Gratefully, it wasn’t the youngest, who, once awake, does not go back to sleep. Ever. If she’d come into our room, I may have suggested she go visit the neighbors. Dumb stupid ceremonial types. Don’t they get enough of the bang-bang on the 4th of July? And what normal person is awake at 1:44 AM, anyway? Go to bed, already. American Idol is over—why stay awake?