I don't like fireworks

The Fourth of July. A favorite holiday of the Dunsworth clan. Tony hasn't come around to liking it as much as the rest of us, though there were some parts he really enjoyed. He joined the Martin family on their pontoon in the boat parade. Tony was the Gilligan to Skipper Sylvia.  Both were master flag-wavers. And both fell asleep by the end. You forget how big the lake really is.

Tony also took up "surfing." In Tony's world that means carrying around a kneeboard on his head while wearing a swimming diaper and water shoes. Close enough.

All the playing outside resulted in Tony being a casualty to the mosquitos. One morning he woke up looking like this:

Right on the eye. Poor kid. He was a good sport and didn't let it stop him from playing with Sylvia's trains, which he wheeled around in his wheelbarrow almost the whole time.

The Fourth ended in tragedy. Tony does not like fireworks. In fact, he has a touch of PTSD from it still. At least a few times per day I hear from him what he said that night, "I don't like fireworks." He refused to watch them and kept saying, "They're too loud." We stay inside while he covered his eyes and I covered his ears. When I tried to take my hands away he immediately grabbed them and put them back. Maybe next year will be different, but this year fireworks were a dud. Pun intended.