A Pyromaniac Is Born

January 18, 2007

When Dan and I first started dating, I jokingly called him “Dan, Dan, the Pyro Man.”  He loves to play with fire, and his bonfire parties were legendary in his social circle.  He liked to throw virtually anything into his bonfires to see how/if it would burn… sofas, computer monitors, etc.  And of course, just to make it interesting, he would douse the pile of combustibles with used motor oil.  One friend, watching Dan prepare a bonfire, said that he was going to get the phone and dial 9-1, then hold his thumb over the 1 button, you know,  just in case.  Needless to say, Dan was well known by his local fire department.

Ever since we got married and took up residence in “the city,” however, his bonfires have been few and far between.  So I haven’t given much thought to his pyromaniacal tendencies.

Until tonight.

While I was getting dinner ready in the kitchen, Sophia helped Dan build a fire in the wood stove.  She’s a handy sort of girl, always helping out and wanting to participate in everything.  She scooped out the old ashes from this morning’s fire, helped him put the smaller pieces of wood in, and watched while he lit the fire.  I wasn’t really paying all that much attention to what they were doing, though, until she uttered the following:

“Hey mom, don’t look at me and Daddy, because I don’t want you to get scared and have a heart attack.” 


Well, after some deliberation and rule-making, she finally allowed me to see what they were doing.  Apparently Dan was lighting matches for her and she was blowing them out.  And she was right, it did scare me.   But not enough to keep me from taking pictures for posterity.  This way, if she ever turns to a life of crime (say, for example, arson), I will have photographic evidence of the point at which it all began.



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