I have to share a little story about the Fourth of July.
I love fireworks. Love love fireworks. They’re one of my favorite things in the whole wide world. When I was little, the whole family would gather up a picnic for the mania that was the Hollywood Bowl fireworks extravaganza.
When I got a little older (and I became a silly teenager who wanted to be cool and do cool things with my friends), I’d traipse around to various parts of the city, to have silly teenaged adventures, with one caveat – that it would have to include fireworks. Our fam would still try and catch the festivities at the Bowl another night of the week. I even found fireworks when I was in Europe one summer during college.
This year was the first year in my entire life I missed fireworks on the 4th of July. Ever. Pouty sadface me. And it wasn’t even my fault!
I cried. I was so upset. Yes, a little dramatic, but seriously… so… bummed.
UNTIL a little mouse named Deirdre (D, as I usually refer to her) peeked her head into my room and said that she and Josh had a surprise for me.
Half dressed, bare footed and pouty, I grabbed a blanket and ran out to the porch.
What was waiting for me in the driveway? Fireworks.
Josh and Deirdre found me fireworks.
Josh lit up a dazzling display of sparklers in the driveway while D + I stood on the porch, watching with glee.
Seriously, it doesn’t get much better than that.