I grew up on the East Coast, which means the things we practiced for safety were fire drills and tornado drills. Fire drills meant everyone lining up and filing out of the school to a "safe spot." Tornado drills meant everyone lining up and filing into the hallway with a heavy book, where we'd sit on the floor with the book covering our neck and back of head.
Thatbaby is growing up with different drills. Partially because he's growing up on the West Coast. They don't do tornado drills here. They do earthquake drills. And I'm glad, because to this day, I'm not entirely sure what you're "supposed" to do during an earthquake. Most of the time I just sit and look around. The last one I stood up and looked out the window, which I'm pretty sure is the exact opposite of recommended behavior.
Thatbaby also has different drills because things are different now. On Wednesday, Thatbaby's school had a lockdown drill. While it's hard to think about the fact that this is a drill to protect preschoolers from being shot and killed, it's also reassuring to know that steps are being taken to prevent harm.
The teachers prefaced the drill by explaining to the 2-3 year olds that this was to practice "in case someone came to the school who wasn't supposed to be there." No talk of harm, or bad people, or things that would keep them up at night. In fact, Miss M explained to me that when she was given the choice of places to take the kids, she purposely vetoed bringing them to the bathroom, because the last thing she wanted was for the kids to associate the potty with anything unpleasant.
Instead, when the announcement came, they all quietly filed into the director's office where they sat quietly and read books and ate cheerios. (Which was another secret trick Miss M had up her sleeve. Because eating children are typically quiet children.)
As for Thatbaby, he's completely unscarred by the experience. In fact, the next morning he was very excited to show me where they ate cheerios the day before.