Emma calls the stars in the sky – Sorry Bubbles – it has a certain poetic beauty to it. She used to call fireworks, rain and the noise motorcycles make, “bubbles”. But “sorry bubbles” remain my favorite. This New Year’s Eve she referred to the fireworks, which showered Aspen Mountain as “fireworks”.
“Look! Look at the fireworks!” she cried. Then she made noises, which sounded a bit like the noise fireworks make.
“Does the noise bother you?” I asked.
“Yes!” she said, covering her ears.
“Does it scare you?” I asked.
“Noooo!” she said, laughing.
“Do you want to go outside with Daddy and watch them?”
“Do you want to stay inside the boy’s house?” she answered. Which meant she wasn’t asking a question, she was stating a fact. She wanted to stay in our friend’s house and most definitely did NOT want to go outside in the 10 below zero cold to watch the fireworks with her Dad. Richard stayed close to the house and occasionally jumped up and down to keep himself warm.
“Dance, Richard! Do your dance,” Nic’s friend, Eli said, from the warmth of the kitchen.
“Daddy’s jumping!” Emma commented.
“He’s trying to stay warm,” we told her.
“Daddy wants to see the fireworks. Daddy’s cold,” Emma said.
Later as we made our way back to our house and after the fireworks had ended, Emma looked up at the sky and said, “Sorry bubbles! Look at sorry bubbles!”
“Is that what you call the stars, Em?” I asked, confirming what I suspected.