John was really upset on Wednesday, missing his camp...that's all he's known for Independence Day for most of his life. He cried a little while we were waiting for the fireworks to start. I was tempted to offer to just go home, but I was a selfish asshole and kept my mouth shut b/c I wanted to see the fireworks so badly. I still feel like a prick about that. But he did enjoy the fireworks, overall. He commented to me during them, "I didn't expect them to be this good." (For a half-hour show, our fireworks fucking rock. Who needs downtown Boston, that's what I say.) And once near the end, I heard him shout "Wow!" That did my heart SO much good, b/c I felt like the fireworks had helped him feel the tiniest bit better about a rather painful day.