Skip to main content

Red Hot Fire

 I sent the boys outside to play with fire this afternoon.  I'm not even kidding.  It's wet out there.  What could possibly go wrong?

Out they went with their flint and steel and about two dozen cotton balls.  I reasoned that at best, they might actually learn some legit survival skills, and at worst they were getting some outside time.  I felt like it was a pretty genius parenting move.  The boys were thrilled to be given permission to start a fire, and I was able to make dinner without anyone telling me what they didn't like (at least until it hit the table).  

Fischer is so obsessed with fire that I'm fairly confident he will grow up to be a fire fighter or an arsonist - depending on Ross and my parenting skills.  

Yesterday Fischer woke up, came into the living room and poked his head out the door.  "I think it's a burn day," he told me.  

"Why is that?" I asked.

"It smells like a burn day.  You should call."

So I did.  He was right.  

Today, he sniffed the air and said "It's another burn day. You should call."

Right again.  I don't even know what to say.  

He will drop everything he is doing to watch Ross start a fire in the woodstove.  When I let the woodstove burn down to coals this afternoon, I knew I could count on him to help me get it going again.  He told me exactly what to do and sure enough, we were back in business. When I complimented him he said, "I watch Dad do it and learn something every time."  He is five.  I don't remember studying anything but Lady Lovely Locks when I was five.  I mean, she's pretty much got the corner on late 80s hairstyles, but not a lot of life skills going on there.  He impresses me.  And has me brushing up on my parenting handbook.        

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Little Bit Dicey

 This might be a little controversial.  I try to steer clear of such topics in this space, but it needs to be said.  Take it as you will, but know that it comes from a place of love, concern, and respect.  Here it is: there is a right  way to cut an onion. Now, I'm not saying this to try and get anyone's dander up.  I'm just saying it's a subject that needs to be addressed in kitchens across America.  There may be more than one right way to skin a cat (I can't say I've tested that), but the same does not hold true for onions.  Please, you can teach an old dog new tricks - learn how to properly cut an onion.  It will save you time, frustration, onion tears, and possibly a finger.     Now, since I'm still sitting here on blogspot like it's 2003, I'm not going to post any how-to videos, but I'll do the next best thing.  I'll paste a link right here .    Check it out.  Practice it.  Make it a habit.  T...
Post a Comment
Read more

Advanced Placement

 Not to brag or anything, but I think we are raising some very advanced children.  At two-years-of-age, our girls have already worked out the art of manipulation and deflection.  It's the antithesis of endearing.   They went missing the other day - the girls did.  That's never a good situation.  They were in the house, and I knew they were in the house, but I couldn't see or hear them.  Silence is the loudest alarm system.  Fischer took action and found them both in my bathroom.   "MOM!" I met them in the hall.  Carter was covered in clumps and blobs of hand cream. "Emi did it," was her unsolicited response.   "No," I told her.  "I think you  did it." That night I got ready for bed and pulled out my one "self-care" splurge - my face cream .  It was in my drawer where I always keep it.  The lid was screwed on.  And it was empty, wiped clean.  "EmmmeerrrrrSON!" Guilty.  They were both ...
2 comments
Read more

How to Tame a Toddler (and other myths in parenting)

I used to think I had started to hone my parenting skills.  Fischer was a much more mellow toddler than Sawyer, and I credited Ross and myself having the experience of one child under our belts.  It turns out, I was wrong.  Fischer was just a more mellow toddler .  That, or we have substantially regressed in our skills since having the twins.  It could be that. They are terrorists.   Nobody and nothing is off limits.   Our walls are covered in crayon and pencil.  Our new kitchen table has been branded with marker.  There is crayon on the windows.  My cupboards and drawers are empty.  My counter tops are full. They have figured out how to climb up on the table, and how to climb onto the windowsill and over the back of the couch, how to climb out of their cribs, and how to climb out of their clothes!       Our boys did not do these things.   I wasn't prepared.   I thought we had a plan...
Post a Comment
Read more