July continues . . .

The 4th of July was not the same without visiting Mrs. Simeone. I hope she is feeling better . . .

The girls and I had fun at Auntie Sarah's beach house, though. Sarah provided us with sparklers, light-up hula hoops, and a puzzle of the map of the U.S. We were able to view the fireworks from neighboring towns from the porch.

Alas, the visit was marred by Libby's dialing 911 from a pay phone Sarah's dad installed in the house, that is, alas, a working phone. The state police called several times, and said they were coming over to investigate, but they never did. Which gives one pause. What if we really were being held hostage or something????
Anyway, Sarah was not amused, and Libby was terrified for the rest of the weekend that the police were coming to arrest her.

This incident caused me to question whether I am too lax a parent. To me, calling 911 seemed like a minor offense in the grand scheme of things. I mean, the kid is 7 years old!!! I've done plenty of silly things at much more advanced ages. However, everyone I've mentioned this to seems shocked by this behavior, and shocked that I'm not shocked.

I think I'm too tolerant, of too many things, alas. I must work on my irritability.
Above is a posed photo re-creating the crime at the beach.

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And speaking of crime and the grand scale of things, I watched a very good documentary by Laura Poitras this weekend, My Country, My Country. The filmmaker shadows an Iraqi doctor who is running for office, and she lived in his house, so was able to get family footage that gives a very intimate view of what it is like to live in Iraq. I hope Barak has seen this!!! Use your Netflix wisely.