One of our biggest fails happened on the fourth of July. Me, Chris, and Jonathan went to a public park for some cotton candy and his first fireworks display. Some of you may have already forwarded ahead to where the fun train derailed. And it doesn’t involve a sugary confection. 

We were seated on the tailgate of my Ford Bronco to watch the light show. The full-sized version of the SUV. Like the white one AC Cowlings drove OJ Simpson in during the famous Los Angeles Freeway chase. Except mine was a bronze color. And I never drove OJ anywhere. The first launch lit up the sky overhead with a palette of bright colors. We told him there would be a fantastic collection of lights. But we didn't consider how overwhelming it might be. We completely failed to warn him about the boom that followed. In our exuberant planning, we didn't fully consider the sensory impact on two-year-old eyes and ears of having the sky dissolve into bright lights followed by an explosion. Again, and again, and again. 

He screamed and clamored into the rear compartment as far back as he could.   He escaped the bright lights but not the whistles, crackles, and booms. 

At this point, you can imagine our scrambling to buckle him into his child seat and dashing to the exit. Except we were forbidden from leaving the park until the display ended. I considered breaking the rule, even if it meant jail time if I could stop his crying, but people seated on lawn chairs and blankets who were not screaming and crying blocked the exit roads. So, instead, imagine Chris and me trying to comfort a frantic toddler who doesn't understand why Mom and Dad can't make those nasty lights and noises go away. Said toddler crying himself into an exhausted sleep. 

Even though I rewind this memory and relive this trauma every time the fourth of July rolls around, Jonathan remembers nothing of it. I'm thankful for that. But he does know the story. His son Carter is not a fan of loud noises. Jonathan and Ashley have naturally been cautious of introducing him to fireworks to avoid passing along the July 4th fireworks horror tradition. 

When Chris and I moved to a smaller house after Jonathan and Samantha vacated the larger nest, we discovered a benefit that wasn't in the real estate listing. From our front yard, we have a view of the town's July 4th fireworks display. Close enough to enjoy it, but far enough away that the display is not in your face and the concussions less concussive. Jonathan and Ashley thought this would be the perfect way for Carter to have his first fireworks experience this year. He's four, so he'd already seen fireworks in videos and was better prepared than his father. If he didn't like them, it was a quick walk inside. And when it was over, there would be no crowds or traffic. A win all around. 

And a win it was. Carter was thrilled by the display, and we were thrilled that he was thrilled. 

As the echoes from the finale faded away, Carter, a member of the swipe-the-screen video generation, said, "Let's watch it again." 

There’s no rewind in real life, and the memory of this experience, as fresh as it is for him now, will probably fade away. But when his mother and father rewind the memory, it'll be a more enjoyable playback than ours is of Jonathan's. As children, you learn from your parents. What to do. And what not to do. As parents, if you have more than one child, what you learn from the first can be passed along to those who follow. 

Sometimes. 

Maybe I’ll rewind our daughter Samantha’s first-time fireworks experience next year. 

Right now, I'd like to keep Carter's on replay. 

There’s no crying.