Fireworks

Having a RADling means "family fun" is a conscious decision in which you know you're going to pay dearly on one end or the other, but you do it anyway. Because, gosh darn it, you deserve it. Such was Fourth of July Weekend. We partied had friends over. We barbecued. We lived outside. We stayed up reeeeeeeally late to see fireworks.

We got home at midnight.
Five hours past Princess's ideal bedtime.
Seven hours past the youcan'tmakemeIwon'thavefunbecauseIdon'twantto Rage of the Century.

And then we shot off the horde of illegal out-of-state fireworks we bought the weekend before.

So, needless to say, Princess was totally weirded out.

Also, Princess has a latent fear of the dark. She wanted to hold my hand, which was great, because she usually prefers to be either ten feet behind me or five feet in front. So I was enjoying it, but she was still clearly uncomfortable.

Then, her sisters, who have a sisterly radar for hot spots, began talking about robbers. And long spooky shadows. And bats. And coyotes.

I don't want to be out here anymore.
Ok honey. The lights are all on inside. You can go get on your pajamas and I'll tuck you in in a little bit.
Can you come too?
I want to see the fireworks, sweetie, but you can go in if you want.
I'm going to go in.
Ok.

She ran up to the house like she was being chased by coyotes and robbers and like bats might swoop down and get tangled in her hair. All the way to the lit front porch. And she stopped. For a long time.

Princess? You sure can watch from there if you feel better. You can sit on one of the chairs.
Silence.


I feel better with you.

She ran back to me, chased by coyotes and robbers, bats swooping, and held my hand.