The Fun in the Fourth
A/N: A heartfelt thank you to my husband and all those who put themselves in harm's way to defend our country. Whether or not you agree with the political issues involved, our troops deserve respect and gratitude for their unassuming service to protect the rest of us.
Christine Booth rolled over in bed, and slowly awakened to the realization that she was uncomfortably cocooned in her covers and too warm to doze off again. As she wriggled to free herself, she felt someone watching her, and opened one eye. Her younger brother Hank was standing beside the bed, a quizzical look on his face.
"Hank! What are you doing there? That's stalker-creepy, watching somebody sleep! Scram!"
"Chrissy, I'm not stalking you. I was trying to figure out the best way to wake you up, so you wouldn't grouch at me!"
"Go back to bed, or go watch TV, and let me sleep! It's summer; I don't have to get up yet!"
"Chris, it's July 4th! Don't you remember we agreed to treat Dad today? I thought we could make him pancakes for breakfast, with fruit like the flag. But if you don't wanna help, I'll just do it myself."
With that, the twelve-year old did an about face that would have done a soldier proud, and left his sister's room. Christine pulled a face, rolled her eyes, sat up in bed and sighed, feeling badly that she'd forgotten their plan for this morning. Stayed on facebook too late last night, she thought to herself. Grabbing her robe, she tiptoed out of her room and followed Hank to the kitchen. She found him pulling the tops off strawberries their mother had purchased the day before. Looking up, he grinned at her.
"I knew you'd help. How many pancakes you figure Dad can eat?"
"Prob'ly at least four, if Mom doesn't stop him. Let's see if we can make them square so they look like a flag. We can put some whipped cream on the fruit for stars!"
"Dad'll love that, and Mom won't; too much cholesterol, Booth! she'll say!" Hank chortled.
"You got that right! I guess we could make chocolate chip pancakes, and use those white chocolate chips," Christine mused.
"Ew, no, those are good in cookies, but they don't taste right in pancakes. I tried that last month when we ran out of the dark ones."
A half hour later, the Booth children trooped upstairs to their parents' room, each carrying a lap tray. A stack of somewhat rectangular pancakes were garnished by blueberries in the top left corner, sliced strawberries arranged in rows across the remainder, alternating with a thin ribbon of whipped cream in between. One plate held crispy bacon strips, the other did not. Hank placed an ear to the door, and hearing silence, turned the doorknob, and entered the room. Setting the breakfast tray on Booth's night stand, he gently shook his father's shoulder. Christine mirrored his actions on Brennan's side of the spacious bed.
"Happy Independence Day, Dad! We made you breakfast to thank you for protecting us, and everybody else," the two kids chorused.
Booth rolled away from his wife, and smiled at his lanky son. Stuffing a pillow behind his back, he sat up in bed and grinned at his daughter.
"Thanks, you two! That's very thoughty of you guys, as Pops used to say!"
"We've gotta go downstairs and get your coffee; be back in a jiffy."
"Okay, take your time so you don't burn your hands; and give us a minute to use the bathroom, too," their father called after them.
Booth nudged the sleeping woman next to him.
"Bones, wake up! We need to get some clothes on before they get back."
Brennan rummaged under the bed covers, pulled out an ancient faded FBI t-shirt and pulled it over her head. Next to her, Booth wriggled into his sleep pants, then flung back the blankets and strode to their ensuite bathroom.
The Booth children wisely gave their parents some breathing room. When they were younger, they'd each made the mistake of bursting into their parents' bedroom unannounced. While the adults managed the intrusion gracefully, their maturing sons and daughter began to realize that some notice of their presence was a better idea. They admired their parents' love, but each had been embarrassed by Booth and Brennan's PDA from time to time. The couple's passionate connection was a source of private amusement among their children.
Once the family reassembled, Booth munched happily on his bacon.
"You got it just right, good and crispy; thanks, guys!"
Brennan eyed his plate with a disdainful frown. "Four slices of bacon is too much, Booth!"
"We thought about making him 13 slices, one for each original colony, Mom!"
Booth smiled widely at his children. "You guys are the best, and Bones, it's not like I eat bacon every day. How many peanut butter sandwiches you think we need to take to the cemetery today?"
Knowing the origin of Pops' tradition of eating PBJ sandwiches and Coke at his buddy James' grave each year, Hank nevertheless prompted Booth to retell the story he never tired of hearing.
"Dad, did Pops ever say which kind of peanut butter James Rawlings preferred?"
"Either one! In years when he had time, Pops visited James on both Memorial Day and July 4th and alternated which kind of sandwich he brought. He never did bring Diet Coke though; said that would have really irked James, since it wasn't the real deal."
"Told me his buddy used to drive him nuts discussing the relative merits of crunchy versus creamy. Pops even wrote home to his wife to send a jar of Peter Pan so James could get his fix and stop yammering, but it got lost in the mail."
Swallowing a bite of strawberry thoughtfully, Brennan assumed what Booth called her 'school teacher face, and remarked,
"Peanut butter has occupied an iconic role in American culture. Some sources used to credit George Washington Carver with inventing peanut butter, and he certainly contributed to its popularity as well as improving the lives of Southern farmers by devising so many uses for a crop which had previously been used only to feed livestock."
"He realized that the nitrate produced by legumes replenished the soil depleted by tobacco and cotton, and advocated crop rotation to rectify this. During World War II he invented 30 textile dyes and 19 leather dyes from peanuts to replace wartime shortages."
"In reality, the ancient Aztecs and Incas invented peanut butter. The legume has been cultivated for 8,000 years. Even so, by the time Carver died, peanuts had become the sixth most abundant crop in America. He did a great deal to improve the lot of his people and other subsistence farmers."
"Wow, Mom, I'll have to remember all that when Mrs. Harrington assigns her 'what did you learn over the summer' essay when school starts," Hank declared.
"Your mom always has helpful facts right at her fingertips!" Booth agreed.
"Booth, facts are knowledge which is stored in the brain, not in one's phalanges."
"Yeah, yeah, Professor Peanut, I know," Booth smothered his wife's corrections with a kiss.
"Chop, chop! Let's get this show on the road, before it gets too hot! We've got fireworks to set off after we go to Arlington, too. Russ's family is coming up for our cookout tonight, and I told him to get here plenty early so Emma and Haley can go with us to explode lots of firecrackers!"
"Last one to the car is a broken tibia!" Christine exclaimed as she raced her brother to get dressed.