Dear Laney,
Your school had a field trip last Thursday to tour a fire engine.
When I picked you up after school, your teacher laughingly described it like this:
"Most of the kids jumped on the fire engine, checked it out, and jumped off. Then there were some kids who didn't want anything to do with it and stayed away. Then, there was Laney. Laney got on the fire engine and would NOT get off. The fireman asked her if she wanted to come to work with them. She nodded and told him she was going to drive the fire engine. He asked if she wanted to be a fire fighter, and she asked for the keys. We had to explain to her that she couldn't really go to work with them today, and had to ask her to get off the truck."
This morning, your teacher e-mailed me these photos:
This doesn't surprise me. For months now, they've been doing construction on the road near our house. Every time we pass the steam roller, you look out your window and sigh and wistfully say, "When I get big, I'm gonna drive that." I wasn't sure how I felt about it, until I realized that if you grow up and become a steamroller operator, no man alive is going to give you any trouble. Who wants to tangle with a woman who could tun his car into a crepe?
Roll on.
Mom
* In Alabama/Georgia, this is pronounced "sy-reeen."
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