I love fireworks. Like, love them like a little kid, love them. Look at my face during a firework show and you will see childlike awe and wonder.
So you can imagine my glee when I learned of a little extra bonus my house has after we moved in 9 years ago.
The first time we saw them we thought, that’s odd, what kind of festival are they having on February 11th? Maybe it’s for Valentine’s Day? But then another rando celebration on March 23rd? What’s going on?
But they kept happening. April 17th? May 10th? Another completely arbitrary day? We can see them outside our upstairs windows and also from our driveway. We’ll be sitting on our couch and hear the familiar booming sound, and I go running like a 4 year old who hears the ice cream truck.
I finally learned that the golf club across the street sets them off for some of their weddings. So we get to see a firework show at least once a month. It is awesome. And now that my kids are old enough, they join in on the fun. Unfortunately, during the summer, they go off later, so they are half asleep in their beds, and I suddenly hear from my daughter’s room, “FIREWORKS!!! AHHHH!!!” and then the scampering of little feet.
Last night was a firework night. It’s been a few months. So we were all very excited. We hear it. It takes a second for our brains to register what it is. Then, is it? Is it really? Yes! We ran as fast as our legs could take us up the stairs and crowd ourselves around the window. Little one sits on my lap. Big on sits on my husband’s lap. And we watch our private firework display. It was a great end to a very fun day.