I.D.

Independence should be celebrated, and to me, nothing says independence like cars, beer, guns, fireworks, and a pomeranian.  I had to amend the list and add the last part, but it still works.

So, for the fourth my older brother brought the family all the way from Canada.  He has a wife and three kids.  Sam is American born, but his kids are Canadian and therefore have no idea what Independence Day is.  

Like Jack said, "As your lawyer, I recommend you drive fast and demonstrate your own brand of freedom."

Actually he just looked at me and gave me his happy but puzzled expression.  I took that to mean he agreed.  If I was wrong, he would surely have said something to me when we were buying $90 worth of fireworks in Indiana from a man with a pistol in his belt (belt being a loose term since he was wearing sweat pants).  

I had a great plan for an entrance so great the kids would have peed their pants:

I would ride in in my purple station wagon, radio blasting, dog barking, and shooting fireworks out of the window.  I would come in through the hedge so as to really take them by surprise.  

It would have been beautiful.  But, since my Dad had just gone into the hospital quite unexpectedly that afternoon, I felt as though a smoky barking purple streak of fun may have been seen as inappropriate.  I came in late, had a drink, and went to bed.

Dad turned out to be fine.  Bladder infection and some hospital time and everything went alright.

Jack, it turns out is quite an animal.  He made friends with everyone, rode the four-wheeler with me and my nephew, swam in a pond, and is unafraid of fireworks or gunfire.  He even managed to fight a little with my parents' puppy and not look like a pansy.

All in all, I think he had a good time.  He slept the whole way home alternating between my lap and his seat.  I could have used some help with the driving, but what can ya do?