Out of the Ashes

You've probably heard So-Cal is basically in smoke. It's terrible. Many, many people have lost their homes and belongings and the air quality is nauseating.

At 6 this morning, Y and I flip on the news while getting dressed. Elan leaves Maggie and the Ferocious Beast and his plate of waffles in the family room and drifts into ours, curling up on my side of the bed to watch the flames.

He sits, glued to the coverage for half an hour, periodically making comments like, "Man, it's a good thing OUR house isn't on fire," and "Those people didn't even realize their house was burning down because they were SLEEPING, and their neighbors knocked on their door to tell them they had to get OUT," and to ask on-point questions like: "If our house WAS on fire, who would carry which pets out? Wouldn't their tanks be heavy? What would we DO?"

And I briefly entertain the image of the four of us, outside in the middle of the night in our pajamas, watching our house become engulfed in flames. I toss Ariel into Y's arms and run back in, calling in explanation to my bewildered loved ones NOT WITHOUT THE PRAYING MAAAANTIIIIIIIS!

Finally, I tell Elan he's got to go get ready for school. He sighs that big, full, happy sigh, the one that comes at the conclusion of something he's thoroughly enjoyed, like a bag of sour sticks, a book I've read with voices, or a BBC America Walking with Dinosaurs DVD.

"I love this show," he says dreamily. "Can you tape it for me?"