“Mom, how do you make fire?” asked C.
“Well. It’s really quite hard. Sometimes if you rub two sticks together you create friction, which makes it hot and then you can get a spark and it can cause a fire. It’s really hard to do though. Why do you ask?” I tried to sound casual.
“Really? You’re not thinking of starting a fire, are you?”
“Then why do you want to know?”
At this, S pipes in to ruin it for him. “We found some thorn trees.”
“Okay. You can just put them in a pile for Daddy to burn later. You should never start a fire by yourselves.” I said. “Ever.” I added.
“Why?” they asked.
So I launched into scary stories about what happens when fires get out of control and how dangerous they are and how if a fire started in the woods it could move up to the house and if the house caught on fire we wouldn’t have any place to live. How you can die just by breathing in smoke and that getting burned is one of the most painful types of injuries you can suffer. I think I made a compelling argument. And I’m glad my older boys aren’t terribly impulsive.
“Hey, Dad?” said C.
“How do you make fire?”