Char-cro-waved

Recently, we have had a series of exciting events revolving around heat in our house. Before you get nervous, this is not a recount of our "personal time", but life in general at Rahija Central ...

I guess the first event was Thanksgiving, which, I realize was a long time ago, but as I was cooking potatoes for our feast at the Riggs' home, I turned on the wrong burner, and set fire to an innocent hotpad, that was waiting on the "wrong burner". When I realized the blunder, I quickly removed the smoking hotpad to the sink. On the downward spiral toward the stainless steel sink, the potholder burst into flame, leaving a trail of black smoke and black "flakies". Needless to say, it went out with style.

More recently, Erin had a little run-in with fire, starting with Avery's diaper .... It was a normal evening, and Avery had just been cleaned up from her "daily deposite" which was especially fragrant. Erin was complaining, and as I had a candle burning in my room, she was reminded of on of the purposes of candles, and asked if she could have a candle in her room. I was a bit hesitant, but told her if she would leave the votive on the shelf in her room, then I would allow her to have the candle in her room for a while. She agreed, and we had a brief recount of how fire is dangerous. I lit the votive, placed it on the shelf, and left. A few minutes later (less than 5), she ran to the office, where David and I were looking at some real estate listings on line. Breathless, she communicated to us that there was something burning in her room. With a bit of sarcasm, I asked her if it was the candle. She vigorously shook her head, and commented that it was fire, it was on the floor, and it was scaring her. I ran down the hall toward her room, where I could see, through the slat of the door, flames flickering merrily on the carpet. This hastened my steps even more, and I sailed into action. Now, ordinarily, in any room in any house this would be a bad situation, BUT, in Erin's room, in our house, it is disasterous. For those of you who have seen Erin's abode, you can attest to it's general state (paper bits, toys, clothing, crayons, markers, stickers, bedding, books, .... can all be found on the floor), which also heightened the intensity of this event. I found a small area in flames, grabbed the nearest thing I could find to smother/beat out the flame, which was, to my dismay, my favorite little girl dress, cream with pink flowers. Well, we extinguished the blaze, and tried to pick out the truth of what happened in those >5 minutes. To the best of our understanding, this is Erin's rendition ... "Well, I was wanting to watch the candle, so I climbed up on my bed and got it off the shelf and put it on my drawers by my bed. Then, I was tired of it, and wanted to get it out, and I thought it would be good to pour water on it, so I got some, but then I got scared that the fire would get on me if I poured water on it, so I got a wetwipe, and tried to get it out, but suddenly, it got on fire, and I was scared, but I needed to take it to the sink in the bathroom, so I started going there. Then the fires got too much, and I was going to get burned, so I had to drop it, and that's why it's on the floor." We were thankful for many things, mainly, that she was not hurt, Avery was not hurt, and that our house did not burn to the ground. We were proud that Erin came to get us, and tell us when there was an emergency, not hide in the closet, which would have been very easy. A wetwipe-shaped burn mark on the carpet is better, by far, than one on an arm, leg, or tummy! We are so thankful everyone was safe (except the very cute dress, which did not survive the incident).

Okay, the most recent event did not involve actual flames, but intense scorching via heat. Let me start by saying the smell of burned ... no, CHARRED ... microwave popcorn is a haunting, invasive stench ... better, I'm sure than the smell of charred flesh, but still, very distasteful. Yesterday, Erin was a little hungry, and I guess right after I went upstairs to get dressed for the day, decided to make a snack of microwave popcorn. Erin LOVES popcorn, not merely for the flavor, but the entire process ... unwrapping the bag, placing it on the turntable, closing the door, and watching it puff up as the tiny seeds burst into a fluffy, buttery snack. Having watched and partially participated in this ritual many times, she felt confident enough to try it solo. During this time, I am trying to figure out what to wear, upstairs, trying to locate my glasses, and got distracted with something in my room, and I suddenly smell the buttery scent of popcorn. I remember thinking to myself that the popcorn from last night would not have lingered into the morning, especially with that "hot buttery" smell. I felt the familiar prickle of "something's wrong with this picture", and hurried to the stairs, where I hollered down to Erin, asking her what she was doing. The ALL too familiar "Nothing!" greeted me, followed by a cloud of black smoke. I sprinted down the remaining stairs, and yelled for Erin to get out of the kitched, and I think I was also screaming for her to tell me what she did. I feared she had tried to make popcorn on the stove or in the oven, but rounded the corner into the kitchen to find black smoke pouring from the microwave. I yanked open the door, and slammed it shut again, as the smoke detectors chimed in, adding to the general din of our happy little gathering in the kitchen. After making sure the popcorn was not actually afire, I grabbed a cookie sheet, and started fanning the smoke detector, hoping to squelch one of the noise sources. Logic soon grabbed me by the nose (which was filled with smoke), and I quickly opened the front and back doors. I also realized that the smoke was stinging my eyes and burning my lungs, so I took both girls, who were also making much noise, and took them up to their room, opened their window, and closed their door. When once again trying to pluck the truth of the situation from my four year old, I was met with her logic and independence, which I fear, may one day cost our family dearly. She informed me, that she was simply hungry for a little snack of popcorn, so she got a chair, grabbed a package of popcorn from the top of the fridge, moved her chair to the microwave, tore off the plastic, laid the bag down in the microwave, shut the door, and looked at the numbers on the keypad. She found the number "5", and since she likes that number, she pushed it, and "What do you know, the microwave started turning!". After a while, she noticed a whisp of smoke coming from the microwave, so, she took in as big of a breath as she could, and blew with all her might, so to put out the fire (which, of course, is the source of smoke!). She did this for quite a while, I guess, for I remember hearing her puffing when I came into the kitchen. She was worried, but didn't think it was necessary to call me or let me know what was going on-- "I had everything under control, Mom." Sooo, now we have a stinky house (although it is much better today, thanks to yesterday's vacuuming, and last night Febreeze attacks), and a little girl who keeps complaining about the smell of our house. Anyone wanna come over?!

Thus ends (we pray) the tale of heat-inspired adventures of the 4 Rahijas.