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Like most boys, Nicholas is into vehicles. Motorcycles are a big hit - a couple at the gas station the other day let him sit on their Harley and he was thrilled. And I've mentioned before his love for buses. We've taken him on a couple of rides in town, and he still talks about the trip he took in San Francisco with Momo (his sister) and Kikimo (her friend, whom Nicholas thinks he is dating).

But nothing is more exciting for him than a firetruck. We'll be driving down the street, and suddenly I'll hear excited jabbering from the back. "Fiotwuk, Mama! Fiotwuk!" So today we were at the neighborhood market, and some firefighters came in, presumably to pick up lunch. In the checkout line, I asked if they'd mind if I took Nicholas up to take a closer look at their truck in the lot. "Not at all," one said. "I'll come with you."

We walked out to the lot, and up to the truck. All four firefighters joined us, showing Nicholas where they sit, how the hoses are folded, where they keep their gear. Nicholas was agog when they showed him how water comes out of the truck and even let him hold one of the adapters they use. He scored both a tattoo and a sticker, and as the truck drove by our car, they flashed the lights for him.

It took maybe 5 minutes. Probably 5 minutes those guys would rather be spending eating lunch. But it was a big deal to a little boy who waved wildly as the firefighters drove away, and then talked about it the whole way home, and later to his dad and his grandma. And it was a big deal to his mom.