all fire engines, all the time

We go through toy phases over here.  It was once ‘struction vehicles; we sought out building sites and pointed out the cranes that we saw at UNC Hospitals.  He dug up our backyard with his mini excavators and filled up his dump trucks. Then it was fire engines.  We detoured by Fire Station #2 on Ninth St. every chance we got.  We proudly wore the plastic helmet the firefighter gave us.  Then it was planets.  We checked out every outdated book on Neptune that we could get our hands on and did jigsaw puzzles of the solar system at 7:15 in the morning.

Somehow, we are firmly back in firefighting territory with a minor concentration in rescue studies.  We like our firefighting books here, preferably nonfiction and always grossly outdated.  We comment on the beauty of outriggers and contemplate all of the different sounds that a siren could make.  Even our arts and crafts projects take on a decidedly conflagrational tone.


Today in the car, w. informed me again that he wanted to be a firefighter when he got bigger (I still haven’t signed off on this one).   This time, he said that little e. could also be a firefighter, and they would work together at the same station, but I would be lonely.

I know that firefighters are a very common fascination with little kids, but I wonder how this single minded devotion to a subject happens and how we can continue to foster this into adolescence and beyond.  How accomplished would we all be if we could so effortlessly and so completely throw ourselves into an interest and be able to explore all dimensions of it without any distractions and while being completely humored by everyone around us!

That’s it.  I’m throwing myself into the arena of felt.  Don’t come over to play at my house unless you come bearing wool felt in unusual colors.  Or chocolate.  You’re always welcome then.

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