I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many fireworks around this neighborhood as I did last night. We were, to use the term loosely, lit up. Of course, the real commotion started right around my daughter’s bedtime. The previous two years, I worried we’d have trouble getting Sonja to sleep because of the noise, but it turned out to be no trouble at all. Last night, it was trouble.
After sitting with her for about half an hour – she was not scared but she wasn’t able to concentrate on sleeping either – I decided to let her see the product of all that noise. We went to the window and watched the sky for twenty minutes or so. After each firework there’d be a gasp and a question: “Can I have another one?”
Then I realized the local fireworks would be starting on TV, so I let her lay down on the bed with me to watch. I caught about every third firework between her bounces. At this point, I was practically passing out, I was so tired from the previous week. So I put her to bed and, though I was worried I too would be kept awake by the noise, fell asleep probably before she did. I slept right through any noise that may or may not have occurred. Do you think that right after I fell asleep, everybody just stopped shooting off fireworks? No?
I slept well until it got quiet again around 3:30, at which point I couldn’t sleep. I checked on Sonja, who was asleep on her floor mattress. Her body, at least. Her head was actually on the floor. I checked on the cat, who had been outside when the fireworks started and who we brought in covered in stickies from some bush he was hiding under. He was asleep under the papasan chair, one of his favorite spots, and the rug was covered in little balls of sticky black hair. The dog had also seemed to do pretty well with the noise, so I went back to bed. I still couldn’t sleep, so I wrote the speech I have to give for my friend’s wedding tomorrow, and with that off my plate, the house was peaceful and quiet again, save for a few stray *BOOM*s.
So…Canada next year, right?