The Midnight Parade of Firemen

To satisfy Mrs. RadWag's curiosity, here's the promised story about how we wound up with three firemen in our apartment at midnight on a Sunday.

At about 11 o'clock, I took the final step in my bedtime routine. After teeth were flossed and brushed, hair combed, face washed, contacts out, jammies on, chapstick applied, I went to check on the girls.

I opened the door to their room only to be assaulted by the pungent odor of eggs. I literally took a step backwards and shook my head. DH had just climbed into bed and I made him get up to come smell. As he rolled his eyes at his pregnant, smell-sensitive wife, he appeased me by getting up.

As he neared the door, he agreed. There's definitely something rotten. So, naturally, we checked diapers. Nothing. And then we remembered that natural gas is supposed to smell like eggs. We whisked our sleeping babies out of the room, investigated a little more, still found nothing, and then called the local PD.

We were baffled, as DH explained to the dispatcher. We don't have any gas appliances. Nor do we have food in the bedrooms. Nor are the girls gassy. She reassured him that he made the right call and urged him to get us out to the car ASAP.

Quickly, we bundled the girls and as we opened our front door, the parade of firemen were coming our way. At 12:05, three firemen came in with fancy little handheld detectors. They checked all over the place and came up with nothing. In the meantime, since the door to the bedroom had been open for about an hour by then, the smell had somewhat dissipated. Not completely, but enough so that the firemen said they didn't smell anything. We still smelled it.

After they reassured us that there was nothing to worry about and that we should call any time we smell anything funny and that they're glad we called that night, we put the girls back in our bed and decided to investigate ourselves.

I smelled all the outlets - maybe some neighbor's cooking was leaching into our space. Nothing. I checked the patio door. Nothing eggy outside. DH checked the toy box - no melting toys or rotting snacks. Nothing whatsoever.

So we went to bed, and when I poked my head back into the room about an hour later I got up to potty the first time, I still smelled it with certainty. When I got up the second time, about 4, for yet another potty break, the smell was completely gone.

Strange all the way around. Someone suggested one of the girls most likely ripped a gigantic fart. But we're still not convinced. So, we 're on the lookout for the real story, both doubtful we'll ever know it.