Boom

When the kids were younger, we had Halloween parties at my dad and mom's farm.
It was awesome.

Now that they're older, and the farm has been sold, Halloween is less awesome.

Drew did have a party, with all his school friends, last night at my mom's house in Fraser Heights. I wanted to buy a buncha pumpkins so they could carve them. And I wanted to bake cookies so they could decorate. And I wanted to bring in a firepit so they could roast marshmellows. But he was very definite with his NO.

This afternoon John and Brett came over and Brett (whom I want to adopt) said to me, "do you have any pumpkins we can carve?" I just happened to have 2 on hand, so he and John happily (key word HAPPILY) started designing their jack-o-lanterns.

Drew's little bro came by, trick r treating.

Can you see what Drew is doing? While his friends are doing arts and crafts, he's being creative too...
He's hammering screechers.
So they go BOOM.

Plus he's filling his backpack with the fireworks his big brother picked up for him:

And I wish for those olden days when I had some measure of control over my sons' activities.

I never used to dread Halloween - but these past few years have not been joy-filled occasions. They've been filled with me worrying about the parties they go to and the fireworks they are determined to own.

Tonight, just after it got dark, two car loads of older unfamiliar-to-me teenaged boys showed up and made themselves at home in my garage. And I started to feel even more uneasy.

and sick about my child's determination to play with things that are dangerous.

Once Drew had finished refining his explosives, he strapped them onto his back ("Please God, keep this stupid human being safe") he and his 7 friends went looking for trouble.

They found it.
They were lighting their fireworks in a subdivision a few blocks from my place when the police (HELLO. I live 2 blocks away from the police station) confiscated their goods and handed out $900 in fines (with Drew getting one for $300). I wish the cops would have packed him up and brought him after that, but they didn't.

So the boys continued to have fun with the fireworks that weren't taken. But they ran into a gang of hoodlums (?) who were not impressed. I'll probably never get all the details but they all ran here and snuck in through my back sliding door. And now someone is missing a pair of running shoes. And there is a big drama going on in my kitchen about plans for getting the footwear back.

And I kinda wish this night was over and that next year someone else's house (maybe one where there is a dad in it) would be the gathering place.

Three things I'm thankful for:
1. No one is missing any fingers or facial features.
2. The fireworks are gone.
3. It's just money.

Shalom,