Just before bedtime one evening I saw a fire engine from my kitchen window, no sirens, no flashing lights. Two firefighters (minus big coats, boots, helmets, etc) climbed out and went up to a neighbour's house. Scotty normally doesn't need any convincing to go outside, and the promise of a fire truck got him moving double-quick.
We stood on a nearby driveway and admired the truck until the firefighters came back out, carrying a barbeque. Very strange. The barbeque didn't have the propane tank on it. Can't figure that one out. But the barbeque isn't he point of the story -- the point is that they offered to let Scotty sit in the driver's seat and he declined.
What?!
I think the problem is that the firefighter made the offer and stooped to lift Scotty into the truck all at the same time, so stranger anxiety kicked in. I tried to intercede by picking up Scotty and telling him that I would come along, but he was having none of it. Even when I was standing on the running board with one hand on the steering wheel he wouldn't release his grip on my collar bone -- he just whimpered and said that he wanted to go home.
Of course, as soon as I set him back on the safety of the grass and told him to say goodbye, he flashed an immediate smile and waved "bye-bye". They got a good chuckle out of his sudden turnaround. They flashed the lights as they drove off, and Scott thought that was pretty sweet -- maybe as good as sitting up front.
As for me, it was like deja vu -- it was like the visit to Cardel Place for Family Day when he locked up on the mini firetruck:
I guess it doesn't matter that I forgot to bring the camera out. I've already got a shot of Scott crying with a firetruck, and a picture of two firefighters carrying a barbeque would be of marginal value, really.
2 comments:
If only you'd got a shot of that BBQ, ARGHHHHH!
You without your camera? That is as bad as me without mine!
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