It's the last day of the big summer festival around here - Privateer Days - and the weekend ends every year with fireworks. We had R (who was pretty well sacked out) fresh out of the tub, getting into her nightgown when the phone rang.
I heard B say "No, Dad, I think Cass and I will come and R will stay home with..." and then he was drowned out by a banshee wail of epic proportions I WANNA COME FIREWOK PEASE DADDY PEASE FIREWOKS
(note to self: perhaps B doesn't realize how his voice carries? Plus she had her Daddy-radar on....)
so we packed her in the car, nightgown, wet hair, blankie and all. It was her first fireworks display - heck, why not? We picked up my father in law and drove into the absolute hell that is trying to find a parking place in a small town on the closing night of a summer do.
We finally found a spot (note to locals - yeah, you think I'm telling?? phoo.) and settled down to watch, perching Cass on top of the car and B holding R wrapped in her blankie. She was almost asleep (again) when the fireworks started.
The fireworks were gorgeous. Rosey liked them just fine.
Except the noise. The noise was not okay. By the third display, she was inside the car, sitting in the drivers seat. She felt safer there, secure enough to bounce around and squeal and talk at the top of her lungs and deafen my poor father in law. "Oh my Rosey-Posey! Look!" LOOK PAPA PINK IT'S PINK PINK PRETTY PINK! And then she vibrated around in the seat so much she honked the horn with her belly.
Shushing her was a very temporary thing. Chickie was excited.
And just like her mother, when she's excited, she gets LOUD. I'm not sure Papa knew what hit him. At the end, she was bouncing around like a maniac and he had his head out the opposite window. (Probably to get away from the noise.)
When the finale ended, and C and R were done oooh-ing and ahh-ing, we headed back out into the mess of people leaving. R was fairly rocketing around, talking about the firewoks and the pitty colours and the bang-bangs and C was talking just as animatedly back.
Three minutes later my father inlaw suggested ice cream.
But the terrible two were both conked out in the back seat, so we passed.
5 comments:
bang bangs really are pitty. I still love fireworks.
That is the stuff of summer.
Savannah was all about the colors as well. Jn fact thats what she called the fireworks, 'Colors'.
Your description of Rosey had me picturing a catherine wheel skyrocketing round in your car.
Love fireworks.
I remember seeing fireworks as a child and being frightened but loving the pretty colours too...i wonder if boys prefer the lound bangs?
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