5 years, 2 months.
Dear Jack,
Tuesday at 1:00 AM, I shot straight out of bed and ran upstairs. I didn’t use to have such stellar hearing when it comes to a child crying in the middle of the night, but that skill has evolved over the past 5 years.
When I arrived in your room, you were sitting up in your bed. You explained, “I had a scary dream. The house was on fire and the fireman came.”
I quickly assured you, “Well there’s definitely no fire in our house. I’m here. It was just a dream. There are no firemen here. Just us.”
You and I both knew why you had that bad dream. The morning before, as our family was about to leaving for school and work, we all noticed a strange chemical smell in the garage.
I thought it smelled like nail polish remover; you thought it smelled like chlorine in the swimming pool.
After Mommy pulled her car out of the garage, much of the smell went away; though the smell was still very strong inside my car.
Our plan was this: When we get home, let’s not park in the garage. Instead, let’s keep the garage door closed, that way we can walk into the garage through the smaller door, to see if the smell has replenished itself.
That is indeed what happened, but I also had Mommy call the non-emergency line for the fire department.
When I arrived home, you and Mommy were sitting in Mommy’s parked car in the driveway; as the fireman explored our garage, and house, in all their fancy equipment.
Interestingly, after their thorough investigation, they found no sort of gas or chemical leak. They found no reason for concern.
The best theory they, or we, could come up with is that we had recently opened the box for Holly’s new stroller; and somehow the “new smell” from that accumulated into the garage, which is on the other side of our living room.
This marks the first time I ever remember you having a scary dream and calling me up. I wish you didn’t have to dream that, but I’m glad we had our place professional inspected to make sure we truly are safe.
Love,
Daddy
