“America! My America!” Jordan shouts passionately as she comes pell-mell down the hallway and into the dining room. Mouse's red graduation gown floats out behind her, a Burger King crown is secured at her brow with a blue bandana and she's waving a lightsaber over her head, dangerously close to every light fixture she passes. This earns her a hearty round of laughter as “America! My America!” is the most memorable of Mouse's utterances from his sleep-talking (in this case sleep-exclaming) period a few years back.
“The lights,” I say, “Watch the lights!”
“Yeah, let's go to Oakland for the big lights.”
“No, the KITCHEN LIGHTS” I point up as her still-flailing lightsaber makes a wide arc and just misses the globe overhead.
“Are we going to Jack London Square?” Mouse asks, deftly flipping the omelet in the frying pan. When the kids were younger, we frequently spent The Fourth of July in Oakland, watching the fireworks display over San Francisco bay.
"We figured that since we're in a legal firework county this year, we'd go old-skool.”
"Why do I get the feeling that old-skool is going to suck?" Jordan asks, lowering her lightsaber long enough to pluck a sausage link from the plate on the stove.
“Running around the apartment complex with two sparklers apiece does NOT constitute old-skool.” Jay says as Mouse carries the eggs over from the stove and we all tuck in around the table.
“After breakfast,” Jay motions towards Jory with his fork, “lose the cape and we'll go get some fireworks.”
“The gown, you mean.” Jordan says, swishing a wide sleeve with a flourish, “It's a cap and gown, right Mom?”
“At the moment it's a crown and gown, but technically yes, I think you're right. Now eat.”
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