I think I’m too old for fireworks. That seems a bit sad to me. I remember being a child and thinking them absolutely fascinating and magical, and not being about to wait until the 4th of July, and being so excited when I was handed a sparkler, and oh my gosh, the first time I was allowed to light one myself..! I watched our kids squirm with suppressed impatience in the hours leading up to dusk on the 4th, and could feel a distant echo of that excitement.
But the truth is that I have other things that interest me more at this point. Dave is the one who takes them out to buy fireworks; Dave is the one who runs the show that night, armed with his trusty blowtorch. (Don’t laugh; it’s a great way to light them, and on a windy night it’s invaluable. Our neighbors, initially dubious, ended up borrowing it.) My contribution was to do one sparkler and then bring out chairs and blankets as it got cold and dark, so we could watch what the rest of the neighborhood was doing.
The kids are definitely into the magic of fireworks. This year they discovered that sparklers will leave a white line on the driveway, and so spent their sparkler time “painting.” This year also I believe Nathan got a chance to help light a few things. I’m not entirely sure. It was a chilly, windy evening, and after I’d snapped some pictures I ended up spending most of my time inside, beading.
My ten-year-old self would have been so disappointed in me.