Fourth-of-July

We tried to go to the fireworks this weekend. Notice I said, "tried." If it wasn't for the funnel cakes, our trip would have been a complete failure.

Andrew has been talking about fireworks for at least two weeks now. He couldn't wait to go. Friday finally came and we claimed our spot at an amphitheater along the Brazos River. The city launches the fireworks almost exactly across the river from this amphitheater. About 20 minutes before the show is to start, Liz reminds Andrew that the fireworks are going to be loud. He immediately looks at Liz and says, "I don't want to watch the fireworks. I want to go home." We chalk it up to weariness (it is almost 10 o'clock) and convince him to stay.

The show starts at 10:00 and we find out, along with several hundred other families, that the city has changed the launch point. The fireworks are now going off behind us. Not only are we facing the wrong way, but the show is behind a bank of trees. That really doesn't matter, because with the first explosion Andrew buries his head into my shoulder and whimpers, "I want to go home." I make him stick it out for a few minutes, encouraging him the whole time ("Look! A red one!), but he is not interested at all.

After just a few minutes, we decide to pack it in and start hiking back to the car. I carried Andrew because he wasn't about to walk on his own at this point. We stopped every few minutes to see if we could get Andrew interested, but he wants nothing to do with it. We finally get back to the car and I have to put Andrew down so I can put the stuff back into the trunk. No sooner do Andrew's feet hit the ground, than he takes off running. I peek around and see him fervently tugging at the door handle to the car, desperate to get inside. Liz thought he had wet himself he was so wound-up.

We got everyone back into the car right at the very end of the finale. So, after all was said and done, we endured the heat, crowds, and traffic, but saw no fireworks. What a Fourth-of-July!

(c) 2008 Scott Everett