Yesterday we took the kids to see our local fireworks at Hove Cricket Ground. I love fireworks night: I've never grown out of it. It hasn't been until recent years that Lily has embraced fireworks. We had a couple of false starts taking her to displays when she was younger only to have to leave seconds into the display as she was clearly petrified of the bangs and unfamiliar darkness. So it was with a little hesitance that we took Arthur to his first fireworks display last night, aged three. He told me that he really wanted to go and that he didn't mind loud bangs as he was three and could deal with it. He was right. He was so full of expectation. He sat, as good as gold, waiting for the display to start and when that first rocket launched and exploded into a riot of glitter in the dark sky his eyes were wide and his smile was priceless. He sat there drinking it all in. As a result, I think I spent more time watching his reaction than the actual fireworks.
On an entirely different note, though equally topical, Lily today asked, in all sincerity, if she could vote in the US elections. She was rather miffed to hear that she couldn't. She has apparently been following the pre-election campaigns on Newsround and had already decided who she would vote for.
It says a lot when a seven-year-old can clearly see who should win this election.