Goats

This morning Charlie and I were both busy at work in the office. I was doing work-work, and he was building with blocks.

Charlie sings while he works. Loudly, and non stop. While we typically enjoy highlights of Top 40 hits, he is clearly a fan of the songs they sing at school. His current favorite is a little ditty he likes to call, "Head, Shoulders, Knees and Goats." It's really quite wonderful.

Tomato

Never mind that he is currently sporting a black eye and a banged-up knee. Charlie is all about safety. Not so much his personal safety, per se. He's more interested in the big picture—the safety of homes, schools, entire cities, etc. You get the idea.

So we talk about storms, fires and other natural disasters on the regular. A firefighter and a police officer visited his classroom over the summer, and of course drills are a regular occurrence at his school, so safety is clearly top of mind.

As we walked Mary Clare to school on Monday, Charlie took it upon himself to remind us of what we need to do in case of emergency. He marched ahead, sharing his insights:

"When it's a fire, you have to get out of the house. Run. Don't stop to take any toys," he said, and then turned around to make sure we were paying attention. We nodded and I confirmed that yes, the most important thing is to get yourself to safety. He nodded, pleased that he taught us something. Mary Clare and I exchanged a conspiratorial smile, and he resumed his march, and his spiel.

"Now," he said, "if it is a tomato, you do not go outside. You go to a small room. And you have to go like this."

And quick as can be, he dropped down onto the sidewalk and assumed the crouch-and-cover position we were all taught in grade school.

As he popped up, he said, "That is what you do. Because tomatoes are very dangerous."

That they are, buddy. But now we know what to do. As does everyone who was cruising down Lockwood Ave. that morning.