Monday, September 11

Fire Drill

You won't believe what Little Man did to me Friday morning!

I walked Tater into her preschool class, just as I do every morning. As usual, Little Man was on my left hip, so my right hand was free to sign papers, unzip the Pepto pink backpack, toss the food into the snack basket, wipe a face one more time, or whatever. I slid the sign in clipboard over close to the wall, so Little Man and I would be out of the way. I didn't want to disturb anyone. I finished the last letter of my name just as it happened.

BONK BONK BONK BONK BONK BONK BONK BONK BONK BONK BONK...

I turned to see where the awful noise was coming from. It was the fire alarm.

Little Man pulled the fire alarm! Oh my God! Make it stop, make it stop!

I quickly learned that you can't make it stop without a key. Crap! Then I looked around to see that people were pouring out of the classrooms. They were looking at me and I was touching the stupid alarm. They thought I did it! Oh no!

That is when I totally bailed on Little Man. I stopped trying to turn the blasted thing off and started pointing at my precious little boy. "He did it." What loving support, huh?

Tater's Teacher calmly took the clipboard and all of the kids in her charge and headed down the stairs. We followed the herd. Humiliation.

Once we were all outside and accounted for, everyone was assured that there was no fire. Thank goodness, the fire department was told it was a false alarm before they left the station, and the alarm was shut off quickly.

Tater's teacher said not to worry. They needed to do a firedrill in September, and this would satisfy the requirement.

My dad, an ex-fire inspector, thought the whole thing was super funny. He said it was payback for some of the ways I embarrassed him when I was a kid.

Great. Little Man already has a reputation at preschool, and he is only 15 months old.