Lately, Laurel is obsessed with the smoke detectors in our house. Actually, fearful is more accurate. To put her at ease, I've been trying to explain how the smoke detector keeps our family safe from fires. Despite all my efforts, she is still unsure of the round object that looms on the ceiling just outside her bedroom. It scares her to the extend she quickly runs into nearby rooms, closes the door and states, "I am safe now."
So the discussions continue, trying to put her mind at ease. Even Ian is trying to help his little sister understand the role of a smoke detector and that it's just not some scary monster waiting to gobble her up.
This morning's conversation:
Laurel: The smoke alarm is my friend. It winks at me. (She's referring to when it blinks a red light.) The smoke alarm put out the fires.
Ian: No Laurel, the firetruck and firemen come and put out the fire.
Laurel: Yeah, the firemen and the firetruck put out the fire.
Ian: That's right Laurel, the firemen and the firetruck put out the fire.
Laurel: Ok. If the fire alarm goes off, we go to Grandma's house.
Ian: No, we go to Alex's house.
Laurel: Oh yes, we go to Alex's house.
Ian: Yes, Laurel, we go to Alex's house and the firetruck puts out the fire and puts the fire in the tank.
Laurel: Ok, the firetruck puts the fire in the tank.
Ian: Yeah, they put the fire in the tank and then they take it away.
Evidently, Ian knows something about the process I don't.