Sorting it All Out, 2

It’s a big ol’ complicated world, and it takes some sorting out.

George and Darcy have arranged the couch cushions on the floor. Darcy was hopping from one to the other – not allowed, as it happens – while George sat on one. His hopping curtailed, Darcy approaches George. Turns out George is being a police man, and the cushion is his car.

Darcy is intrigued. “What are you doing in your police car?”

“Just sittin’ here watin’ for terrible drivers.”

“And what do you do when you see one?”

“I honk my horn and I chase them and I book them.” (This boy has been watching too much television.)

Darcy’s a little concerned. “Police cars don’t honk. Fire trucks honk their horn when they come to a corner, to say, ‘9-1-1! I’m coming through! 9-1-1!! Get out, cars!'”

“But I’m talking about police cars.” George is wrestling with the implications of Darcy’s assertion, and fears he’s losing out somehow. Darcy, however, sees no problem, and hastens to reassure.

“Yeah, you’re a police car, and police cars don’t honk. Only fire trucks.” This is not as comforting as Darcy had hoped, but in a second, George’s face lights up.

“Police cars go, ‘Woo-woo-woo’!” George is thrilled with his brilliance. A siren outranks a horn any day.

“That’s right!” The boys nod in satisfaction. Bit by bit the pieces fall into place. We’ll worry about the sirens on fire trucks some other day…