Microblog Monday (kind of): The Roof

"I'm going to invite the roof to read stories with us, Mommy. Not the alarm, just the roof."

A month or two ago, Calliope and I were climbing the stairs to the sixth floor from our neighbors on the fifth. It was very cold and breezy in the stairwell of our large building, and I noticed that there was an open window in the stairwell near the door to the roof.

We climbed the stairs past our floor towards the roof when suddenly a loud shrill alarm went off, sounding like a car alarm but reverberating very loudly within the confines of the enclosed stairwell. I was startled, of course, but Calliope completely panicked. She dropped to the floor -- luckily she was a few steps behind me, on the landing -- in a huddle with her hands over her ears, screaming.

I scrambled back down the steps and scooped her up and hurried out of the stairwell. Luckily the alarm turned off immediately, but poor Calliope was shaken.

And since that day, she's been scared of the alarm. And of roofs (rooves?), in general.

We talk about roofs a lot. That roofs can't be in the lobby. That roofs don't have feet. That roofs can't come in her room. That roofs have to be on top of the building and no place else. That everyone has a roof. That no one lives on the roof. Except birds. And no, birds can't take the stairs to the roof. And that the alarm won't go off if we go on the stairs, so long as we don't go past our floor.

Today she announced that she's going to invite the roof and a fire truck to Shabbat dinner. Progress!

(Note: written if not published on Monday. Give a new mom a break, would you?)