Volcanoes

Our Buffalo family arrives.  We fill every room in our house.  There are aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, grandparents, grandchildren, old adults (Sean is in this category in case you are wondering), young adults (I am in this category in case you are wondering), kids, babies, dogs, and of course...seven year old Uncle Conor.  The triple threat's infamous sidekick.  One night we set out in three separate vehicles to visit Sean during his bartending shift.  I set the timer.  I give us thirty minutes.  We sit at a big table with lots of seats, a couple of high chairs, playdough buckets, crayons, and coloring pages.  Some people eat playdough, some people eat food, some drink beer, others soda.  Some kids run, some grownups chase.  Some people color, other people mother.    I let Grady use a butter knife to cut his food.  Conor turns to me and says, "A two year old with a knife, really Lisa?"  He's fighting me for my job.  I blame the economy. 

Tweny nine minutes and ten seconds.  Grady bolts from the table and bear hugs the giant fire extinguisher hanging by the door.  He knowingly looks at the fire alarm above it.  Here we go again.   Yes...again.   A couple of months ago I took the kids in to see Sean for dinner.  Grady was sitting at a high top table next to a wall.  I glanced over to see the bright red alarm next to his head.  Exactly at eye level.  I thought it may have reached out and tapped him on the head.  It screamed 'pull me.'  I heard it, I really, really did.  In fact I almost pulled it myself.  It was that irresistable.  I was so busy trying to talk myself out of pulling it that I barely got the 'N' part of 'NO' out before he pulled the damn thing himself.   Lights flashed, sirens went off...and the fire department showed up.  The fire department was supposed to visit Lillian's school that morning and canceled at the last minute.  In his defense I contend that Grady was only looking out for his big sister.  If they'd have shown up as scheduled this never would have happened.  Why blame yourself when you can blame others?  Lillian got her fire department visit.  Love you Grady. 

This time we leave on good terms and without all the fanfare.   Sean's job still intact and the department still full of  its firemen.  I drive Dempsey, Grady, Lillian, and Conor back to our house.  It is well worth leaving early just to hear the conversation on the way home.

Conor  Who was that stranger patting you on the head?
Lil        Oh you just don't know her because you haven't been to the bar before.
Conor  Oh, I've been to the bar.  I've been going with my dad since I was four.  I steal him alcohol.
Lil        What is alcohol?
Conor  You know that beer that your dad drinks? Well that's alcohol. 

Then Grady decides he better get in on this conversation.  The three of them start chanting...AL-CO-HOL... AL-CO-HOL.  Dear God please let this van be soundproof. 

We get home and I let the kids use special markers to draw on the windows.  Conor loves to draw volcanoes.  They are volcanoes like none you've ever seen.  So life like.  You could almost reach out and grab one.  And I know what you're thinking...they really remind you of something else.  So similar...they look like...shoot....you just can't put your finger on it.  I thought the same thing.  It's driving me crazy...I just can't figure it out either.  Oh well... I'm sure it will come to me.  Should either of these volcanoes miraculously erupt, I feel confident that Grady will know how to contact the fire department.