While watching the Fourth of July fireworks, my husband told our children about a childhood memory. The day after the Fourth, he used to search the streets for unused fireworks, forgotten or misplaced in the dark. My husband and I have told our children hundreds of stories about our childhood. I doubt they could recount a one of them, but the day after the Fourth, my children disappeared up the mountain where we had gone the night before to watch fireworks. They were determined to find unused fireworks for themselves.

I thought they were crazy. I was wrong. They found tons of bottle rocks, and even several mortars—those are the kind that launch into the sky and explode in all different colors. So we had ourselves a free fireworks show the day after the Fourth. Though I wish my kids would listen to us more often, it was a good time for all of us, especially my oldest, he got to light his first fireworks. After all, he found them—they were his to set off.