I hate fireworks. Not the sparklers so much... or the smoke bombs. But I hate the rockets and the dangerous stuff. 4th of July at our house always involves fireworks as the male members of our family are undiagnosed pyromaniacs. (Or if you've read about Jack catching my bathroom on fire, REAL pyromaniacs) And so we had our 4th of July early... last night. And it reinforced what I already knew. I hate fireworks. There were a lot of kids there who didn't belong to us, and that makes me nervous even without explosives involved. So I was at a maximum level of worse case scenario anxiety. Jeff did a really good job of doing the safety speech, letting them know the rules and a basic "don't be stupid" speech. I was really proud of him. Evidently he should have repeated this speech for the adult neighbor who came down later with his wife and small son. I looked over and saw Jameson right next to this IDIOT holding a rocket in his hand. At the time, I couldn't tell whether she had lit it or was just standing there. Fire was shooting out of the rocket, right in her face. He drops the rocket, and it shoots off into the crowd of kids and runs right into the ankle of one of the visiting kids. Jameson came running over to me crying and completely freaked out. She was shaking and scared to death. Luckily she was not physically hurt at all. Rachel was crying because it burned her ankle... and the IDIOT... the idiot said, "Oh, I thought it was a Roman candle." I was so angry. He could have made her first 4th of July her last. Our friends went home. Their daughter hurt and scared. My daughter completely freaked out. I am still really mad about it... No more fireworks for me.