“Fly, little firefly, fly! Fly little firefly, fly!”
My daughter ran in her bathing suit next to her brother, also in his swim trunks through the front yard singing this song with such innocence and purity.
I knew the song, but couldn’t remember where we’d heard it. She’s so big anymore anyway, listening to all this pop music and bopping her head…. I don’t know where she gets most of the wild things that she says, much less sings. Still, I found myself humming along to her sweet little tune and in turn smiled, remembering it was Sesame Street after all where we’d heard this beautiful and fitting song.
They ran and frolicked, enjoying the privilege of being up late and the first official night of summer vacation so appropriately gracing us with a yard full of flickering fireflies.
Barefoot, squealing, cupped hands to the sky, she sang, teaching the words to her brother and they caught firefly after firefly.
Usually my kids have a pretty strict bedtime. Not this evening. We threw our schedule to the wind and enjoyed their little bathing suit bottoms chasing fireflies late into the night.
No regrets. I’m not sure who enjoyed our late summer night more.
~K
