So I'm going to take a minute and babble about my darling daughters. This morning (well ok yesterday morning as it's Sunday now, but I had to race off to work before finishing this post yesterday) at the crack of 6:20 am, my 6 year old appears in the doorway to my bed room, and says "Momma, um, there's a fire". Now to most people this would probably yield a ZZOMG jump out of bed and go running, now me, I understand that my 6 year old is very creative, and often very good at exaggerating. So I said, "what kind of fire hun?" and her response was "um, a burning one, come look".
So I sleepily rolled out of bed, walked to my deck door and HOLY SHIT there's a BLAZE O' GLORY buring away in the trash bin in the back lane.
AWESOME way to start my Saturday.
So I watch the fire for a minute, it's a pretty impressive sight, I take note of the tree nearby and the decision is made to call 9-1-1 and discuss the matter with someone with more expertise.
Within 5 minutes we hear the sirens, the fire department show's up and there's steam and what have you and next thing you know, the garbage bin is a smoldering pile of.... garbage.
God, I'm living in the hood.
I imagine how the poor firefighters were feeling, picture it:
They get the call, the bell starts ringing, the fly down the pole (hey fellow pole workers!) into their super-fire-fighter-suits, the jump in the truck and they're on their way, to fight "the blaze ! Only, this fire, that they've been woken up to rush to put out, is in a garbage bin, in a back lane, on a shitty street, in a not so awesome neighbourhood.
I'm thinking, they were probably asking themselves "is it the same garbage bin as last week?"
Poor poor fire-guys.
The 6 year old, and her 4 year old sister, were however quite happy to have an excuse to play on my "fire-man-pole" (which we normally call a Pole Dancing Pole) in the living room all morning.
Oh yeah, I went there, I am *THAT* mother.
But hey, my kids have AWESOME fire safety skills.