Samson's buddy, Jacob, had his birthday party on Saturday at the local volunteer firehouse. Sadly, we forgot our camera, but we've been assured some photos are on the way.
We had initially thought we were going to miss Jacob-palooza, but Sam's low-grade fever was just high enough to keep us from visiting Luke [if there's one thing new parents don't need, it's a sick baby]. However, we figured Jacob and the rest of the crew were all germy enough to handle Sam's runny nose and sneezes. [Note: If Jacob is sick today, he was probably already coming down with something before the party, and we take no responsibility.]
So we got to the firehouse and were greeted by "Fireman Mike," who looked sort of like Henry Rollins and had the demeanor of a state trooper at a Phish concert. He began by letting all the parents know that if at any time the fire alarm went off, we were to grab our children by their "hair, ear, hand, or whatever and get them out of the way." Good times.
He then informed the kids, all without taking a breath: "When Fireman Mike is talking, you're not talking. If you have a question, you raise your hand. But while I'm talking, you are sitting down and listening." It was sort of like the first time Maria met Captain von Trapp's kids, but way less gay and campy.
Anyway, the kids were impressed/intimidated. I have never seen a roomful of three-year-olds sit still for 20 minutes. Fireman Mike's presentation was actually very useful; he gave a really good talk on fire safety --- even if it was peppered with the kind of delivery that would probably have worked better with kids who'd been caught playing with matches. Or maybe kids who were five or six.
Perhaps one of the best parts of his spiel was when he showed another firefighter donning his gear and kept emphasizing to the kids that even though the heavy coat and mask may look scary, firemen are not scary and are there to help.
Then he jumped the shark, demonstrating the emergency locator beacon feature of the fireman's suit, which is activated when a firefighter remains down for more than 45 seconds.
Not only was the sound ear-splitting, but just in case any of us had spent the past few years with the good folks of the Dharma initiative, he referenced it as something we might remember hearing on 9/11. Nothing like bringing up the nation's worst domestic terror attack just before we all adjourned for pizza and a ride on the fire truck. Not to mention the fact that Sam, Jacob, and the rest of the funky bunch were all negative three years old on the date that Rush Limbaugh and the rest of Red State America started loving NYC and stopped thinking of it as Gomorrah to San Francisco's Sodom.
Anyway, Mike was actually a very nice guy, just not particularly at ease around toddlers. I'm guessing he showed up late to a meeting or something and this was the result.
For their part, the kids were all amazingly well behaved [maybe Mike is on to something]. The ride in the engine was awesome, and the kids all got to hold a fire hose while Mike helped them put out a "fire."
And Samson, because he's Samson, got us a tour of the radio room by asking about the dispatcher.
We had initially thought we were going to miss Jacob-palooza, but Sam's low-grade fever was just high enough to keep us from visiting Luke [if there's one thing new parents don't need, it's a sick baby]. However, we figured Jacob and the rest of the crew were all germy enough to handle Sam's runny nose and sneezes. [Note: If Jacob is sick today, he was probably already coming down with something before the party, and we take no responsibility.]
So we got to the firehouse and were greeted by "Fireman Mike," who looked sort of like Henry Rollins and had the demeanor of a state trooper at a Phish concert. He began by letting all the parents know that if at any time the fire alarm went off, we were to grab our children by their "hair, ear, hand, or whatever and get them out of the way." Good times.
He then informed the kids, all without taking a breath: "When Fireman Mike is talking, you're not talking. If you have a question, you raise your hand. But while I'm talking, you are sitting down and listening." It was sort of like the first time Maria met Captain von Trapp's kids, but way less gay and campy.
Anyway, the kids were impressed/intimidated. I have never seen a roomful of three-year-olds sit still for 20 minutes. Fireman Mike's presentation was actually very useful; he gave a really good talk on fire safety --- even if it was peppered with the kind of delivery that would probably have worked better with kids who'd been caught playing with matches. Or maybe kids who were five or six.
Perhaps one of the best parts of his spiel was when he showed another firefighter donning his gear and kept emphasizing to the kids that even though the heavy coat and mask may look scary, firemen are not scary and are there to help.
Then he jumped the shark, demonstrating the emergency locator beacon feature of the fireman's suit, which is activated when a firefighter remains down for more than 45 seconds.
Not only was the sound ear-splitting, but just in case any of us had spent the past few years with the good folks of the Dharma initiative, he referenced it as something we might remember hearing on 9/11. Nothing like bringing up the nation's worst domestic terror attack just before we all adjourned for pizza and a ride on the fire truck. Not to mention the fact that Sam, Jacob, and the rest of the funky bunch were all negative three years old on the date that Rush Limbaugh and the rest of Red State America started loving NYC and stopped thinking of it as Gomorrah to San Francisco's Sodom.
Anyway, Mike was actually a very nice guy, just not particularly at ease around toddlers. I'm guessing he showed up late to a meeting or something and this was the result.
For their part, the kids were all amazingly well behaved [maybe Mike is on to something]. The ride in the engine was awesome, and the kids all got to hold a fire hose while Mike helped them put out a "fire."
And Samson, because he's Samson, got us a tour of the radio room by asking about the dispatcher.
No comments:
Post a Comment