How Do Fireworks Work?

I was surprised it had taken this long for him to ask. We’d had seven firework/bonfire nights in his lifetime and for every single one of them, he’d loved it yet he had never asked how fireworks work. Out of all the events that children go to or are part of, this was the one he had always enjoyed the most. I can only recall one meltdown after a firework night, and since then, we’d made a few changes that helped — going in separate cars so we could leave quietly if needed. But we didn’t even need to do that anymore.

We always went to the same bonfire and fireworks display every year, so my son knew exactly what to expect. It was a small event — a few rides, some food and drink stalls, and one selling light-up wands. We even saw the same people every year, and each time, he’d ask if we’d see them again. The familiarity suited him. And therefore, it suited me.

This year, the rides were slightly different, but even that didn’t throw him off. In fact, he liked these ones even more. He went on every single ride — and then asked to go on the big one. It was a long line of seats that spun round and round, then switched direction and spun the other way.

I wasn’t surprised when he asked. He loves rides. The movement, the speed — for a sensory seeker like him, it’s the dream. The absolute dream. But it meant I had to go on with him. I like rides too, but not the spinny ones — they ruin me. Still, it’s what you do for your kids. As we sat waiting, he turned to me and said…

“I hope I don’t pass out!”

The ride started, and he absolutely loved it. He was laughing and screaming — pure joy. He didn’t pass out. He loved it so much he went on again with his sister. I actually felt worse watching him rather than being on the ride with him. The ride was huge, and at one point, when I glanced over, his head had flopped down, arms limp. My heart dropped.

My God, he’d actually passed out. I felt the panic rise and asked my husband what to do — and then, just like that, he was back up, laughing. He was kidding. When he got off, I asked if he’d really passed out…

“Nah, I was just kidding!”

He hides behind humour sometimes — I recognise that. He loves making people laugh, and he uses it to his advantage. It’s part of how he connects but this little joke had made me feel sick. Still, he had enjoyed himself and that is not always easy for him. After the rides, we went to the field to watch the fireworks. As the first one went off, he turned to me and asked…

“How do fireworks work?”

Now was not the time to explain — but during the show, he told me he thought the fireworks were coming from the sky. I knew they were being launched from further up the field, but because they burst above us, he imagined they were falling from the clouds.

It fascinated me.
He fascinated me.

He stood there for fifteen minutes, completely captivated. When we got home, we researched how fireworks work — and found that each one is carefully made with tiny compartments of powder, chemicals, and colour. A fuse lights, pressure builds, and then — boom — it bursts into something beautiful. And as I watched him watching videos about it, I couldn’t help but think: he is like a firework too.

He can hold so much inside — excitement, energy, curiosity, anxiety — all building quietly beneath the surface. Then something tiny, often unexpected, can light his fuse. Sometimes that spark leads to laughter, creativity, and the most wonderful ideas. Other times, it leads to an explosion of emotions he can’t quite contain. But just like fireworks, when you understand how they work — when you know what’s inside and what sets them off — they stop feeling unpredictable. You begin to appreciate the beauty in the bursts.

That’s what I’ve learned about him.
To understand his sparks.
To notice the build-up.
To stand back when needed, and to watch in awe when he bursts into light.

Because just like fireworks, he might be intense, loud, and unpredictable at times — but he’s also bright, fascinating, and utterly impossible not to love.