Fanning the Flames

Yesterday, young Sam and I went to the Fire Museum with a friend of mine from high school and her two children. Using a stroller would be almost cruel in such a place, but Sam is only two, so how to control him? I decided to use the little puppy dog "leash" that we have for him so he could determine where we walked, but I would be able to yank him back from any potential danger. Needless to say, Sam was extremely excited to see all the old-timey fire trucks. When we walked in, he splayed his arms out in front of himself and made some noises I have never heard before. Of particular interest was the simulator, where you can "drive" the fire truck. Siren wailing, lights flashing, horn blowing, flipping every switch and pushing every button, he navigated the streets being projected on the inside of the windshield.

Meanwhile, my friend's three year old son had flashbacks from his last trip to the Fire Museum . . . he was frightened by the movie of a real fire that is shown in the small theater. He stood in the gift shop and cried almost the entire time.

The longer we were in the museum, the more keyed-up my son got. Before long, he darted away from me and was running around the perimeter of the place with his puppy dog leash trailing like a tail. I was chasing behind him in a most undignified manner. And the well-behaved group of children in their matching t-shirts from the North Charleston Rec Department looked on in shocked interest. You'd think they'd never seen a two year old on a leash before, gee whiz. Oh, I do enjoy being a spectacle. Not.

Sam was rounded up with the help of my friend, her six year old daughter, and the three year old, who had momentarily stopped crying. My son then scaled a platform under the auspices of going down a slide, with the help of the six year old. But once at the top, his true intentions became apparent. He snubbed the slide and tried to slide down the fireman pole (with me yelling for him to stop, once again, a spectacle) but was caught by the "tail" by my friend's helpful six year old who was trying to save his life. He dangled in the air for a moment with the leash suspending him in a fashion which I am sure was contrary to its design, and another mother who happened to be standing at the bottom lifted him down. Where was I during all this? First, I was running up the stairs to stop him from jumping, then I was running back down to catch him. Successful at neither. Leash and child back in hand, I walked toward the gift shop. Sam got himself tangled around my legs, just like a dog. My friend gestured toward her three year old, who had turned on the waterworks again. She said, "We can go anytime you're ready." "Yeah," I replied, "Let's go now."

No return trip to the Fire Museum is currently planned.