A happy fourth

Yesterday I spent my first-ever full Fourth of July with my husband. And not only did he have a holiday off, but since the markets were closed on Friday, he had a three-day weekend. Wow. So this is how normal people live. And because he had been working at the golf course the past six Fourths, we were completely lost as to what kind of celebrations Asheville offered for America’s birthday. And after scouring the local papers and narrowing down the Taylor-appropriate festivities, we settled on an outdoor, afternoon concert at a park downtown.

And after a few hours of boogying, our dancing queen was too exhausted to stay up for fireworks, so we headed home. And because I was too exhausted to think about cooking, we swung through McDonald’s for dinner, and treated Taylor to her first-ever Happy Meal. And for someone who has only had a steady diet of organic, natural food, of course she was a happy, happy little girl to get her first taste of the dark side.

And while she has had tastes of fries at restaurants before, she had never experienced the heavenly goodness of McDonald’s crispy, delicious, deep-fried, salty fries. She ate them like they were beef jerky, holding a single fry in her chubby hands and aggressively chomping off each bite. Not to mention there was a cheap, plastic toy involved.

I don’t know who enjoyed the Happy Meal more, her or us being able to watch her. It was hilarious. And afterwards, when she fell into her fast-food sleep coma, we stayed up, had another beer, and listened to the giant booms of everyone setting off fireworks. It was the best Fourth we’ve ever had.