On that evening, marveling at those fireflies, I think, “My kids have got to see this!”
Dashing back into the house, I bound up the stairs two steps at a time, calling to my children already abed. “Wanna catch some fireflies?” I pleadingly ask. Pajama clad, four of my children follow me into the dark evening for a nocturnal adventure.
Among the winking yellow fireflies, my ears took in each squeal and exclamation from my children as they chased and reached for the elusive bugs. One joyful daughter, quick in mind, soon ran to the barn and brought back an empty glass jar. With the sudden appearance of a place to keep the fireflies, my children dash after and reach for the fireflies with greater vigor. Firefly gathering, however, proved difficult and discouraging to my children. Lest the adventure sour, I gave gentle encouragement and pointed out that the fireflies are more easily caught when sitting on blades of grass. “Look for the firefly lights that aren’t floating through the air, for the lights that are not moving--on the grass!” That advice did the trick and I listened knowingly to the pride in their voices as they showed me the winking bugs they’d placed in the glass jar. It was one nocturnal adventure for which bedtime was best ignored and one, I reflected, that wouldn’t have happened without their Dad.