Only In New York

Last Tuesday night, just as we dared to think about getting our little Mason man wound down and ready for bed, something happened that had the exact opposite effect. We wound him up, thanks to this scene on our street:



Why is there a seemingly endless supply of firetrucks and firemen on our block, you ask? There was a fire in the building next door to us. I've still yet to quite get the details on the whole affair, but it seems the top floor of the building was wiped out in the ordeal.

While we'd never wish this on anyone -- and it's worth nothing that everyone was OK, it was only material things that were lost -- you can imagine how excited our fireman/truck crazed son was at the site.

His excitement, however, maybe have been eclipsed the next day, when I snapped this photo with my phone. The firemen, back on the scene to inspect the damage (I think) were nice enough to invite a mesmerized Mason to sit in the front seat of the firetruck. He was beaming, and couldn't stop talking about it.



I love how these guys are SO friendly to Mason. I can't tell you how many times we've passed a truck on the street and they've waved at him or how many times there's been one parked in a station or elsewhere when they've taken a few minutes to say hi and comment on how the little boys are always their biggest fans.