At 4:00 a.m. on Saturday morning, I was jolted from sleep by a smoke detector. We had already been through one round of Musical Beds; thus I was confused both by the sound and by finding myself in our guest room. Husband and I met in the hall, and he took a quick tour to sniff for smoke while I stayed with the kids. We couldn’t smell anything, but I called the fire department anyway, knowing I wouldn’t be able to go happily back to sleep while suspecting that a fire was smoldering in the basement or behind the walls.

The dispatcher told me to get everyone out of the house and wait for the fire truck. We grabbed blankets for the kids and took them outside on the porch.

That’s when they woke up.

See, we usually cook dinner for ourselves after the boys go to bed at night. About once every two weeks, this activity sets off the fire alarm. The boys have become so habituated to the sound that they now sleep right through it.

I always thought this was a good thing, but now I realize that when they move out and live on their own, they’ll have to install the kind of smoke detectors that flash lights and shake the bed.