Independence Birthday

My wife’s birthday falls on Independence Day, which is possibly more awkward now we’re in the US, or possibly less awkward because there’s a massive parade and a fireworks show. I wonder how many years it will take my children to realise I haven’t been throwing a massive party for their mother every time.

In the morning, after we’d opened her presents, we got an Uber over to Bothell, a town about 12 miles outside of Seattle. If I had my bike, I could have ridden there quite easily, but as my bike (along with all our other possessions) is in a shipping container somewhere in the Port of Seattle, so much for that plan.

Bothell is pretty small (maybe 10% the population of Bromley) but they still have their own fire department (which provides a free pancake breakfast on July 4th), their own police force, city hall, and, of course, a parade.

The parade was three hours of people various driving and walking past, doling out free candy. Some highlights:

  • The Mini Owners Club of Bothell driving through in their Minis, every one of which was decorated with British flags. Remember what day we’re celebrating?
  • Somebody dressed up as a troll (all eight feet of them). The girls thought this was absolutely normal.
  • A police motorcyclist riding around in circles (but sadly failing to do a burnout or lay down some sick rubber in a massive doughnut)

Our children were pretty well behaved. We went to a park after that and they ran around for a couple of hours while we shared a birthday pie, and then another Uber home.

The kids were exhausted, but I’d made the mistake of letting Destroyer fall asleep in the car. So she didn’t go to sleep until 9pm. La Serpiente went to sleep without complaint, but when the firework display (half an hour of titanic detonations, unhelpfully obscured by the building next to ours) started, she woke up and wouldn’t go back to sleep.

Will it be like this every year?

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