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The SSFD just made my son's year
I decided I had to put this out there because no matter what you think of the Saratoga Springs Fire Department, my son Atticus loves them.
Every day he comes with me into Saratoga Springs via Lake Avenue, he invariably starts to get excited at about Circular Street.
"Fire! Fire! Fire! Truck! Truck! Truck! Beep! Beep!"
Friday night when my wife and he picked me up from work, I decided that I'd let him get a closer look.
He was excited to say the least (see below).
The firefighters were not only accomodating and welcoming, but Firefighter Bull (I didn't ask his first name and only know his last because that's what his shirt said) said he would have offered a tour of the station if there wasn't construction going on. Then, while my son was beaming about being so near the firetruck ("Beep! Fire! Fire! Red! Truck!"), Bull opened the door and invited me to put him in the driver's seat.
Now, I feel like I should state here that I never said "Hey, I'm from The Saratogian" or anything like that. I was just a guy off the street with an excited little boy in my hands as far as he was concerned. He took out the hose for my son to see, let him get up in the driver's seat and was more inviting than I could have asked for.
I didn't stop for a story, I stopped because it would make Atticus's day/week and instead it made his month/year.
He's not quite two and has an age-appropriate attention span that generally lasts as long as something is in front of him, but he wouldn't stop shouting the whole way home ("Fire! Vroom! Drive!").
So I just wanted to give a public (as public as my blog can get, I guess) "Thank You" to the SSFD. You made my son as happy as I've ever seen him.
Every day he comes with me into Saratoga Springs via Lake Avenue, he invariably starts to get excited at about Circular Street.
"Fire! Fire! Fire! Truck! Truck! Truck! Beep! Beep!"
Friday night when my wife and he picked me up from work, I decided that I'd let him get a closer look.
He was excited to say the least (see below).
The firefighters were not only accomodating and welcoming, but Firefighter Bull (I didn't ask his first name and only know his last because that's what his shirt said) said he would have offered a tour of the station if there wasn't construction going on. Then, while my son was beaming about being so near the firetruck ("Beep! Fire! Fire! Red! Truck!"), Bull opened the door and invited me to put him in the driver's seat.
Now, I feel like I should state here that I never said "Hey, I'm from The Saratogian" or anything like that. I was just a guy off the street with an excited little boy in my hands as far as he was concerned. He took out the hose for my son to see, let him get up in the driver's seat and was more inviting than I could have asked for.
I didn't stop for a story, I stopped because it would make Atticus's day/week and instead it made his month/year.
He's not quite two and has an age-appropriate attention span that generally lasts as long as something is in front of him, but he wouldn't stop shouting the whole way home ("Fire! Vroom! Drive!").
So I just wanted to give a public (as public as my blog can get, I guess) "Thank You" to the SSFD. You made my son as happy as I've ever seen him.
Labels: Saratoga Springs Fire Department
posted by Unknown at
8:04 PM
8 Comments:
Why don't you try that at the Mayors office and see what happens. I bet the Mayor will not kiss your kid.
I doubt my son would have as much fun at the mayor's office, either.
It shows that if you take the time, you find out that Firefighters and the Police are nice people. They have been accommodating kids like this forever.
Sutton is talking to risk management about banning this practice as it makes the Mayors office look unjustfiably mean.
He just needs to open a satellite office in the Carousel.
Don't worry if your son can afford to live in New York State when he grows up he'll be paying those Fireman's pension costs for the rest of his life. so I guess you can call it even
This is why I can't write nice things.
Reality bites sometimes.
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