This week at the beach, I taught my three littlest kids how to build a fire.
If you’re wondering what’s wrong with me, my children were in your camp. They all thought I was crazy, too. Are you sure that teaching fire-building is in our best interests, Mom? they asked with various words and skeptical glances.
I told them I was sure. It seemed like the thing to say.
We talked about fire safety and uses. We talked about how fire keeps us warm and cooks our food. We talked about how quickly fire can burn out of control, and how we only build fires with adults, and that we never, ever, EVER play with matches. And we talked about the importance of oxygen and leaving lots of pockets of space so the fire has room to breathe.
They were entranced.
I was, too. Entranced by them, and mesmerized by this pocket of space where we found a little bit of room to breathe.
And it TOTALLY worked out! We didn’t burn ANYTHING except for paper, wood, some marshmallows and a few hot dogs that, frankly, had it coming.
Of course, it’s all fun and games…
… ’til someone pokes an eye out.
But we got right back on track.
My husband showed me lots of gooey affection in front of our kids. Not to be too graphic in public, but Greg’s been doing this to me…
…for years, and I’m here to tell you that giving him lots of opportunities to practice his skills has really paid off. That guy sure knows what he’s doing. Mmm hmm.
I’m sure now, kids. Sure as sure can be. Fire-building? An excellent idea. And I can’t wait to do it again.
P.S. No eyes were harmed in the making of the hot dogs… no matter how hard we tried.