Fourinarow.net

It was bound to happen. Really. It was only a matter of time. I’m just surprised it took almost two years.

Two years of dragging kids in and out of the car. Two years of going in and out of those preschool doors three days a week. Two years of standing in line running up and down the hallway, waiting for classroom doors to open.

It was just too much. All those days. All those boring pickups and drop offs. You can’t possibly blame him.

Day after day, it was just staring him in the face. Taunting him.

“Pull me,” it said. “Puuuuuuull me. You know you want to. Come on… do it!”

And, he did.

Yes, Luke pulled the fire alarm at the preschool. I don’t know which was a deeper shade of red - the fire alarm box or my face.

I saw it happening. It was as if everything was in slow motion. I had Sam on my hip and Luke was at the door, just a few feet ahead of me. He turned toward the wall. He looked. He reached up. He pulled the fire alarm. I knew what was happening but there was nothing I could do to stop it. (Except, of course, yell, “OH, SH*T!” at the exact moment the alarm went off. That, of course, was very helpful.)
As Ms. Sally (the Administrative Assistant) sprung into action to silence the alarm, I admitted that it was my offspring that was the culprit and slunk away, apologizing profusely.

I caught up with Luke, who was being supervised by my good friend Kristina, just outside the school. Kristina giggled at me. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I just don’t know what’s funnier. Luke pulling the alarm or your ‘Oh sh*t!’”

“Haha,” I responded. “Anyway, I’m sure the alarm covered my expletive.”

“I don’t think so!” was Kristina’s response.

Fine. The kids needed a new vocabulary word for the week anyway.