Remember the time...

A few weeks ago, I was talking to some friends about the types of stories that become family legend...you know, the ones that people drag up every once in a while at a holiday gathering, and everyone nods and laughs? Well, I know I missed the fourth by a few days, but this one just popped into my mind this morning...

We used to spend every July 4th with the Oswalds, or dear next door neighbors. There was usually a picnic with shish-ke-bob, coleslaw, games, and sparklers. One year, after Pam was married and Chris was a baby, there was quite a large crowd in the Oswald's back yard. Dad and Mr. O had gotten their hands on some bottle rockets, and were getting kind of rowdy (I don't remember exactly, but I'm sure there were either Heinekens or Shaffers involved). They decided that the best way to stay "safe" was to shoot of the bottle rockets from bottles they were HOLDING IN THEIR HANDS. I guess the premise was that they could make sure the rocket was pointed in the right direction.

So, I'm not sure what went wrong, but one of the rockets took a funny turn and came back towards the buffet table. Everyone dove for cover, and the rocket landed safely in the middle of Pam's pudding cake...and exploded! Vanilla pudding flew everywhere, including onto baby Chris, who was in a playpen a few feet away. I can't remember who was laughing and who was crying, but I do know that the fathers got scolded and the cake was thrown away.

I'd like to think that Dad, Pam and Mr. O were all together this 4th of July, carrying on the tradition...good times, family and friends, and love of life.