My daughter has discovered the inherent fascination of a flickering flame. She wants to keep a tea candle lit in her room tonight. She likes the smell. This is all well and good until her father comes home or the house burns down. She's blown it out and relit it about five times at this point. I just explained the term "pyromaniac" to her. Doesn't seem to have phased her in the least.
"I love this candle!"
We're headed to a Girl Scout sleepover tomorrow. The cold temperatures mean we'll sleep together as a troop in the big lodge instead of individual cabins or tents. The big lodge is where the huge, walk-in fireplace is. I'm sure you can see where my anxiety is centered this evening.
Here goes Trip #2 with the Hip Cool Moms (and my pyromaniac daughter). God grant me the strength.