This is a test. This is only a test. If this were a real emergency, you would be screaming by now. If this were a real emergency, you would be jumping out of your seat and running around in circles as you tried to determine what to save first before fleeing the scene. Kids, yes. Photos? Sure, but is it safe to go upstairs to get them? What a stupid place to keep your most valuable memories! Oh no! Your computer! Everything is on there! Can you save it? Don't forget to wear shoes. Of course you didn't leave them lying by the back door. They're in the closet under the stairs. Tennis shoes? No, not without socks. No heels. Geez! Hurry it up! This is a real emergency, right? Comfortable shoes, warm, easy to slip on. Get out there! Your kids are already on the sidewalk, waiting for you. But hold on a minute, do they have their shoes, or a coat? What if the house burns down? You'll need your cell phone. And a charger. Car keys. And license. Okay, do you think you have everything you need?

But what if the kids are hungry? What if they're not outside yet? You go to the foot of the stairs and yell their names. Nothing. But does that mean they're already in the meeting place, or that they're passed out in their beds - or in the basement. Better go check. You run upstairs, dropping the pile of coats and shoes at the foot of the stairs. The first door is closed. You reach for it slowly - so if it's hot you don't burn your hand - but then you realize that if it is hot, you are still going in there if your child is in there, and you push your way in. The window is open, and the room is empty. A mess, as usual, but otherwise normal. You suspect that your child may have been smoking; why else would the door be closed and the window open? But you can't think about that right now. You rush out and move on to the next room. That door is open, and the few toys sprawled on the floor tell you that either they left it there earlier in the day or they left their game abruptly when they heard the alarm. You hope for the latter and step out, then remember a third possibility - that someone is in the bathroom. And if this is an emergency, and despite needing to use the toilet, if your child still ran outside, someone is going to need a change of clothes (because what could be worse than losing everything you own in a fire and being stuck in soiled clothes?). You run back into the bedroom (which has no visible signs of any smoke, flames, or any other natural disaster at the moment), and you rush to the dresser to grab some clothes. But, not knowing which kid was prevented from using the bathroom, you have to get clothes for everyone. And actually, if the weather dips down much more, your children will be cold, and if your house is going to be destroyed, you really can't handle an ill child or two on top of that.

But to fit all this stuff, you're going to need a bag. So you run up to the attic (checking the door first, of course), and grab a large duffel. You run back down, three steps at a time, and slip down the last few steps. Cursing to yourself, you get up again, run back into your child's room, and randomly grab clothing from each drawer. Jeans are wonderful in any weather. A short-sleeved shirt, a long-sleeved shirt, and a sweatshirt should cover any weather. Three pairs of underwear, two pairs of socks, and a pair of pajamas for each kid. If they're going to be stuck in a homeless shelter, they'll be bored. So you grab a few of their favorite books, plus a couple of books they haven't read yet that you got for them hoping they'll check them out. Then you put them back because, if they've lost their home already, they won't be in the mood to read challenging books. You'll need to find the library card. But you throw in a couple books anyhow - for yourself (since you can't exactly share your romance novels with them).

You rush into your room, and grab clothes for yourself and your partner. But you have to be careful with your partner's clothes, be