So when I tell you that we've had some doozies since our daughter has been alive, you can believe me. (Not convinced? See here and especially here, where I didn't even talk about what we did for the fourth because it was sad and kinda nasty.)
Up until last summer, we lived in a house that overlooked the Denver skyline, so we didn't have to travel very far to see some pretty impressive fireworks.
I'm not one for attending fireworks shows for several reasons: 1) crowds, 2) bed times, 3) I have kids who are likely to be afraid of them, 4) good Lord the traffic is awful after fireworks (see: bed times again).
When Leah was little, it just didn't seem worth it to alter her schedule. I'm convinced she would have hated the entire thing, as she was a tiny little introvert right from the start and one of the few things that made her blow her top was loud noises while out of her comfort zone. It just seemed like a recipe for disaster.
This year, though, we resolved to venture out and see the fireworks.
And then we wavered. And then resolved again. And then wavered. And at the last second, we packed up the kids, car and picnic blanket and basket and set out. And seriously discussed turning around and throwing in the towel while en route. There was still time.
I'm so glad we pushed through. We happened upon an absolutely wonderful little spot - which was not the show we were actually intending to go to - that turned out to be a huge blessing. All of those things I was worried about turned out not to be an issue; most importantly, no crowds and no miserable traffic.
It was awesome. Awe-some.
I truly could not have asked for a more perfect Fourth of July.
The kids were as happy as could be eating foods we don't get very often and playing on the picnic blanket. Leah ran around and made friends with some really sweet teenagers who thought she was adorable (because, let's face it, she is).
And the fireworks. Oh the fireworks. I love fireworks, and I'd forgotten how much fun it is to go to an actual show, which we haven't done in probably six years or more.
Lee was still a bit timid, but she snuggled up with Daddy and it wasn't so bad. She especially loved the ones that made pictures in the sky, and after a while began looking for the firework that best represented our family.
Logan, though, amazed me. I couldn't decide if it was going to be fine or if he was going to scream the whole time. As it turned out, he loves fireworks. He sat almost perfectly still through the first half of the show, and the only noises he made were ooooohs as his little hand reached out to try and touch them. Sitting, the four of us, with Leah snuggling against her daddy and the weight of my sweet, contented little boy in my lap, was one of the most perfect and precious moments we've had in a very long time.
And then, because my well-scheduled son just couldn't hang on any longer, he fell asleep. Right there, with fireworks booming all around.
My heart felt like bursting right along with the other fireworks.
I love that sweet little guy.
Happy birthday, America. Best Fourth so far.