We were heading back uptown after one of our early morning treks to Trader Joes (So worth the trek, and the best time to be out 'n about!) when we saw a firetruck parked on a curb at Union Square Park.
I pushed Macey over to it, and was explaining that it was the No. 14 engine, and a hose car, as opposed the the hook 'n ladder truck that's been a (unfortunately) frequent visitor to our 'hood lately. Our bold little Mason waited patiently until he saw the firemen, and then yelled "Hello Firemen!" to them.
Besides a friendly hello, you know what else they offered? To let him sit in the truck.
Then to push the horn! He did this three times. The first time with a big, scared jump. The second time a little less of a startle, and by the third time, he was an old pro.
Alas, after about 15 minutes (seriously, they let him sit there that long and he got lots of passersby cooing about how cool he was!), he had to climb back down to reality and let the brave firemen go on their way, but he was beaming all day about his latest adventure.
He even regaled the old church lady who sat next to us on the bus with his tale. She asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up ... he answered "A garbage-truck man!" We were both expecting him to say fireman, but, you know garbage truck men do have some pretty cool rides themselves!
(Editor's note: Inspired by this, a few too many hours of Olympic coverage in our house and his swimming lessons, Mason has declared a new career goal: "I want to be a swimmer," he tells me this morning.)
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