I can hear my friends eating homemade tacos in the living room as I sit on the floor of my bedroom, typing with the door open a few inches. My emotions are fragile and cracking right now, so I didn't want to be completely alone; however, my brain is fried from lack of sleep and the general commotion of the day, and I just couldn't take the direct volume of chit-chat coming from all those who have come to take refuge in our house.
The fire has officially been burning for 24 hours now.
Last night I was baby-sitting when I first got word of the incident. I immediately grabbed the remote and paused the Tivo-ed "Suite Life of Zack and Cody" in order to change the channel to the local news station. I thought the initial few seconds of whining from the three kids (ages 5, 7 and 9) would subside once they saw the screen fill up with glowing fingers of flames. I was wrong...entirely wrong. How desensitized can today's children be? LIVE COVERAGE OF BURNING HOUSES is so much more exciting than watching 12-year-old twin boys pull pranks in a hotel lobby.
But no. Sophie, the headstrong middle child, tried to physically wrestle me for the channel changer, while Chloe, the youngest, let her voice drone out, "Change it baaaaaack. This is so boorrrrrring..."
"But my friends live there!" I protested. As if I really needed to fight back at all. I was the babysitter...
Even though you could see actual flames from their front yard that did appear to be creeping toward their neighborhood, they weren't concerned in the least. On the contrary they were beyond ecstatic because a recently evacuated family friend showed up to store her two cats safely in their garage.
In retrospect, I'm now grateful that my force-feeding of the "Breaking News!" didn't leave them emotionally scarred to the point of hellish nightmares for the rest of their childhood years.
But no. Sophie, the headstrong middle child, tried to physically wrestle me for the channel changer, while Chloe, the youngest, let her voice drone out, "Change it baaaaaack. This is so boorrrrrring..."
"But my friends live there!" I protested. As if I really needed to fight back at all. I was the babysitter...
Even though you could see actual flames from their front yard that did appear to be creeping toward their neighborhood, they weren't concerned in the least. On the contrary they were beyond ecstatic because a recently evacuated family friend showed up to store her two cats safely in their garage.
In retrospect, I'm now grateful that my force-feeding of the "Breaking News!" didn't leave them emotionally scarred to the point of hellish nightmares for the rest of their childhood years.
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