Firemen Say the Darnedest Things

Can you guess where Clara’s preschool class went for a field trip today?

We walked a few blocks to get there and upon arriving, the fire department was summoned for an emergency. Off they went, leaving 20+ preschoolers, parents, and teachers (and a couple Grammies, too) on the grass outside the firehouse to play Red Light, Green Light, hoping they wouldn’t be gone long.

They weren’t.

We were escorted into the firehouse where the captain (I believe) questioned the children on knowing about 911, emergencies and reasons to call the fire department, etc. He then demonstrated the stop, drop, and roll technique with one of the students.

Then he showed the children a fire alarm and asked them if they knew what it was. Clara spoke up and said it was a ‘fire alarmer’. Praised for the right answer, the captain told them the alarm detects smoke where there might be a fire. He then asked if anyone had ever heard a smoke alarm go off for a fire and that is when one innocent child proudly stated,

“Our smoke alarm goes off when mommy and daddy are cuddling.”

And that was that.

The fire crew was called out again.
We walked back to the preschool in the rain, which the kids LOVED, and ten minutes later, the fire truck showed up at the school (and the firemen) so the kids could see it. Their favorite part came towards the end of the fire truck ‘demonstration’, when one of the fireman opened a valve near the bottom to release water underneath the truck.

“The firetruck’s going potty,” he told the kids. He ended up having to show them how the firetruck goes potty three more times.


They say kids say the darnedest things. So do firemen.

Writing for His glory –

Clara’s Quips

When John and Clara arrived this morning, we had a few extra minutes before we had to leave for preschool. Clara was playing and Boppa (Grandpa) was holding John as he squirmed on his lap.

“Boy, you’re sure wiggly today, John,” Boppa said.

“That’s because he wants free range, Bops,” Clara replied.

Seconds later they were at the window waving good-bye to daddy when Clara stated, “You liberal!” to her not quite one year-old brother.

“What?!” I said. “What did you say?” I asked.

“I called him a liberal,” five year old Clara answered matter-of-factly.

“Why’s he a liberal?” I asked.

“He has to be if he’s gonna be someone important.

Then… on the way to preschool, Clara was giving John some Cheerios. In the process I overhear,”I apologize John if they taste different.”

Afraid to ask, I asked anyhow. “Why do they taste different?”

Clara replied, “I dropped a bunch of them but I put them all back.”

Writing for His glory –