Can you tell me the story of "The 3 Punks?"

On the heels of a really nice day Saturday at the Schlitterbahn Waterpark in Kansas City, tonight was supposed to be awesome! We went to church in the morning, had a light lunch at a local restaurant, and then we stopped and picked up some fireworks at a local stand, and finally came home to relax. Shortly after, we went to the neighbors for some conversation and later a picnic. All the kids were playing and having a great time - actually, we were all having a great time - a perfect prelude to the July 4th week and for what the rest of the summer has in store. This busy life was starting to slow down, even if just for a few hours or even minutes, I'll take it.

Punk #1

Before it got dark, the adults were lighting some of the smaller fireworks off - the little tanks, some cars, neon sparklers, and such. The neighbor had stuck the long burning punk sticks in the ground with the tips up in the air, presumably to be extra safe, however, I did not know this, and neither did my son who walked by them and burned his index finger on one of the tips. That was a little lesson for a few of us - needless to point out, the location of the punk sticks was changed and communicated.

Punk #2

My father, whom I have called "Punk" since I was a little kid had spent years instilling the fear that goes with the safe handling of fireworks, and it's one that sticks me every time I light a fuse. I'm not sure how he specifically did it, but I definitely did grow up with that fear - I think it had to do with his incessant rant about losing my fingers... I guess that would stick with you. The key point is that I have a real respect for dangerous things (i.e. sharp things, fire, voltage, and fireworks) - it's part of who I am and how I've kept myself safe through my entire career. Paying attention and respecting the things that could hurt me or those I care about have been core tenets in how I approach anything.

Punk #3

At the firework stand, since we bought a bit more than planned, the guy was pretty nice and let us add some extras into the bag. [question yourself as to why these particular items were free] One of those extras called, "Punk Rockers" was a wild looking little-triangle shaped object sitting about 5-inches high with the following description: "Prepare to ROCK OUT with this intense multi-effect! Nine shots crackling to alternating burst of red, green, and blue wave with time rain alternating with green stars and time rain!" To be honest I have no idea what "time rain" is, but it sure sounds pretty cool, right? After about 8 cool display effects and a few oohs and ahhs, it was time to slip this little gem into the mix. Let me state here that in no way do I recommend you buy this product. It did not tip over, yet shot reports in three different horizontal directions (as well as vertical):

1. Towards the neighbor across the street's fence

2. Towards the neighbors next door whom were watching from an expected safe distance, and some friends that were visiting for the show

3. Towards the general direction of my family (5-year old son, 1-year old daughter, wife and visiting mother-in-law) whom were crying and cowering behind me at this point presumably at a safe distance away (about 30 feet or so on the front porch steps of our house in case you were wondering).

So that happened. I thought I was in control and the things I am paranoid about still came to light, and on this wonderful relaxing day. Father-of-the-year? Not really. How much does feeling helpless to stop the random explosions work for you? It sure doesn't for me. Shielding my kids and the neighbor kids (also innocently sitting on the front porch steps) as much as I could with my body was the only thing that came to mind. It was over in a few long seconds.

Aftermath

No one got hurt and no property was damaged, but that isn't my point. Barriers broke down and as far as I'm concerned, there was an unwanted outcome. I am not a control-monster, but I like to believe that I can keep my kids safe. I am frustrated. My daughter was so cool about it - she was consoling my son with her hand on his shoulder, because he was having a hard time with it. She didn't sense as much as he did that the adults were freaked out and a bit angry. Guess at who? Here is where I would refer you to my previous post on blame, and then together we can try to figure out how to improve the system.

Please be extra careful this year with fireworks, and give them the respect they deserve. I prefer my Dad's way of instilling fear through scary stories, instead of the way my son now hopefully has that respect.