The Hunk Don't Fall Far From the Tree

It came out of the blue from the backseat (as most of the crack-me-up comments do). We were driving to piano lessons and Zooey hit me with:

“I don’t know why it is, but it seems internationally that all firemen are hot.” As I snuck a glance at my ten-year-old through the rear view mirror, I caught her gazing dreamily out the window.

“Is that right?” I asked, curious to see where this was going.

“Well, it SEEMS to be so… I mean what is it with that? They are all just so hot!” She paused, thinking deeply, then said thoughtfully. “I’m gonna hafta marry me a fireman.” And she grinned at the idea.

“Don’t you worry about the man you love having a dangerous job?” I asked.

“Well actually Mom…” (a phrase repeated time and again at my house, a phrase I’ve grown quite accustomed to hearing – yes, I have mixed feelings about this phrase…) “Well actually Mom, fire fighting is really not TOO dangerous… well not as much as you would think anyway…” She said, with expertise.

“Hmmm… okay, but you know that they work 24 to 48 hour shifts, right? I mean they live at the fire house for a couple of days each week.” I wanted to sound like an expert too – who is the grown-up here anyway?

She brought her fingers to her lips. “I hadn’t thought about that… maybe my fireman can work part-time.”

“A part-time fireman? What will he do with the rest of his time?” I asked, knowing she would have an answer.

“He’ll work on my ranch, of course!” She grinned, clearly seeing the whole scenario in her head.

In my mind, she was picturing this hunky, muscular, sculpted man-god pulling off his fire coat, exposing his sweaty 8-pack abs… I watched as he reached for a saddle and a cowboy hat. He winked at me, grinned with a dimple, and then headed outside topless to mount his trusty steed.

In my mind, his name is Dusty, and he loves picking bouquets of wildflowers for me every other day, or wild berries with which he makes amazing pies… his hobbies include building furniture and shopping at Pottery Barn… and when he’s at the fire house, he writes poetry for me and paints impressionist landscapes, all the while being the leading defensive player on the fire house football team – averaging four interceptions per game…

…um… but this was my ten-year-old’s fantasy, not mine…

“Yep…” she smacked, getting quieter, “he’ll be my stud.”

Eyebrows HIGH on my face, I glance in the mirror and see her eyes grow even dreamier and wonder how different our fantasies of this fire man actually are, and I laugh.

“That’s funny, Zooey.” I said, still chuckling.

She giggled and sighed and after a lull, stated firmly, “It makes sense that Firemen are so hot, though.” And she paused, waiting for me to ask – I obliged.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Simple! If they are hot, it’s easier for them to deal with the heat of the fire!” She was proud of her silly assessment, and when I didn’t respond, asked, “Get it? They are HOT – like sexy, but also warm? So being in fire is not so bad???”

“I got it, sweetie, thanks.” I just LOVED the patronizing tone. And when exactly did she learn about “hot” being “sexy”? It seems like just yesterday that she thought of “hot” as “cute”!

Then I hear her ask herself, “hmm… now I wonder what makes them so cool?”