When I was a kid, the worst week of the entire school year was fire prevention week. Each year, after all of the stop, drop and roll talk, I was absolutely convinced that my house was going to go up in flames. I was terrified. I remember being amazed when my mom told me that no house she had ever lived in had caught fire.
Hopefully Edith won't inherit my fear. We took the first step earlier this week by attending a tour of the local fire station organized by the moms' group I recently joined.
Monday morning a couple of dozen moms and their children (from about 3 weeks old to 3 or 4 years old) met at the station for a private "tour." Really, we were all in the garage while one firefighter put on all of the gear while another did the talking. But I think the kids were just interested in the truck and spraying the water.
The tour got cut short when the firefighters had to respond to an actual call. We were all shooed out of the garage and watched as the truck, lights flashing, pulled onto the street. Talk about going out with a bang.
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