Some days I just sit back and enjoy the ride. If Life With Ev were an amusement park ride I think it would be called Something like “Fireball Tornado Twister Speed Rush”. Seriously, it were possible to harness the energy of one four-year-old boy, all of the crisis for alternative energy sources would be solved. Completely solved. And the beauty of four-year-old-boy energy is that it is completely renewable. One sound night’s sleep and–POOF!–the battery is completely recharged.
Today’s ride home from preschool was a clear reminder of this fact.
When the teacher buckled him into the car (this is the way they do it at his school), she said, “Well, mom, no trouble at all with this one. Firefighter Steve made a surprise visit to our classroom, and guess who was front and center?”
She motioned her head toward Ev. “Just ask him what he tried on.”
Before I could pull away, he was already talking: “I tried on boots, but they were too big for my feet! I tried on a breathing helmet, too. It was so heavy.”
And then there was the plethora of firefighting facts. Oh let me tell you, Ev was full of firefighting facts. He was talking so fast I hardly had time to write them all down, but here are just a few, according to Ev:
“No touching fire things.”
“And no touching medicine.”
“If you’re sick, you just tell your mom, and she gets you the medicine.”
“Cigarettes are NOT for children…NEVER EVER!” (which sounds like “nevah evah” in Evanese)
“And mom, one time, there was a little girl. And she took one light at a time to the cigarette. She lighted the match and put the fire to the cigarette, and then she heard her mom making some noise down stairs and hid the cigarette.”
To fully appreciate this, you must close your eyes and picture an old fashioned storyteller, the one with large sweeping hand motions and big round eyes and intonation that goes up and down as the story is told.
Ev is a master storyteller. Already. At age four. He can craft a tale like no other.
He continues with dramatic pause, “Suddenly, her mom smells something in her nose.” He puts his nose in the air, sniffing here and there loudly.
“So…her mom came barging up the stars to see what the cracking sound was from upstairs.”
He looks at me to see if I’m following the drama of the story.
With eager anticipation, I answer: “Oh my goodness, Ev, what was it?!”
“It was FIRE, mama! FIRE!”
“Yeah. Fire. She got burned on her arm.”
Ev then moves swiftly from one story to another with masterful craft.
“One time, there was the little old lady cooking with her daughter, and then…”
He yells at top of his lungs, spitting with gusto on the two /p/ sounds: “POP!!!”
“She opened the oven and the smell came right in her nose and…POP!!!” again he spits explosively.
“The gingerbread man ran out!”
At this point the story begins to take an “Ev Original” turn.
“A different time the lady baked and…POP!!!!…the gingerbread man didn’t come out of the oven. And the boy ate like 1500 and he got sick sick sick sick.”
“Haha!” Ev punctuates.
“POP!!! I just made that part up.”
Ev throws his head back in laughter and smiles that toothless smile.
Oh that smile.
Oh that joy.
Life is good.
Firefighter photo is a Stock Photograph by Department of Defense Public Domain Image Number: 0420-0904-1310-5216. Used for editorial purposes only.