Daddy's Little Pyromaniac...How can I miss you if you won't go away...

It was late and she was tired and she had a mess to clean up.
Daddy: "Bed time Izzy come and clean up your mess."
Isobel: "What mess?"
Daddy: " Flip-flops, Tumbles, your clothes, your empty juice box, your bracelets, your stuffed dog and anything else that belongs to you that doesn't belong in the living room."
Isobel: "OK, OK, I'm going." (Goes into the living room and picks up one object, then resumes watching television)
Daddy: "Keep going. It's still bed time and you still have a mess."
Isobel: "I know."
Daddy: "If you know why are you not doing it?"
Isobel: (whipping up some quick tears) "I am, I am picking it up!"
Daddy: "Done?"
Isobel: "Yes."
Daddy: (walking into the living room) "Isobel, you forgot this empty juice box."
Isobel: (grumbling all the way into the living room and all the way to the trash can) "See, this is why I hate bed time."


Mrs. Narrator used to sit outside by the fire pit nearly every weekend in the early days of our relationship. We'd have a cocktail or two, sit and smoke and talk and just enjoy the fire. Well then she quit smoking and so stopped coming outside with me. She was determined to stop and I was determined to continue smoking. She stayed indoors for fear, in the early stages, that she would relapse and smoke again. I don't think I quite understood it then but I admire her resolve for not giving in. It has been almost two years since I quit which would make it almost four (or five) since she quit. Funny thing is, I kind of abandoned the fire pit too but there are apples and they do stay close to the tree when they drop...
"Oh yeah!" Izzy belted out when I told her we'd have a fire. I thought she might fly off the globe when I asked her if she wanted to help me get it ready.
"Like light it, you'll let me light it?" she asked with a slightly sinister gleam in her eye."
"Ummm...why don't I light it this time around and when you have kids of your own, you can light the fire for them."
"OK." she said. She couldn't have possibly heard what I said to let me off that easy.
So out we went, my new fireside partner. I was a little excited to be schooling her one of the oldest skills around. Fire making. Granted, if I were in dire need of heat and had little or no modern amenities to make a fire with, I might be able to whip something up the old fashioned way. But in all likelihood, I would be a Popsicle in little or no time. However this is a modern world and we have modern things like barbecue lighters. I could teach my progeny the art of fire making leaving out the art of knuckle hair removal such as my father had handed down to me...but I'm wandering.
"What first,Daddy?" she asked me.
"First comes the news paper, " I said. "We need to scrunch the paper up into a bunch of little balls and put it into the fire pit."
"Like this?" she asked, showing me the tiniest bit of ripped up newspaper rolled into a ball the size of a snow-pea."
"Little bigger," I said. "Like this." I ripped off half a sheet of newspaper and rolled it into a tight was about the size of an apple. "If the balls are tight the burn long enough to get the little pieces of wood to burn."
That was all the information she needed and she set upon the newspaper with relish. The pieces she ripped off were only slightly larger but they had all been squeezed within an inch of their lives. At one point I swear I saw pulp running from between her fingers.
"That's right." She said and strategically place the paper ball in the fire pit.
"You know it's going to burn anyway, so it doesn't matter much how you put it in there, right?"
"I know." she said and continued to arrange them.
So with paper in and kindling on top of that, we put flame to it and it smoked and sputtered and finally crackled to life.
"Cool." she said. "Let's get some drinks and popcorn." She had a Kool Aid and a gigantic bowl of popcorn. I had...not Kool Aid and a big bowl of more not Kool Aid.
It was nice to have someone to sit outside with me and watch the flames dance and talk and enjoy being outside.
Daddy?" she began. "If I fell into the fire would I die?"
"I wouldn't let you fall into the fire, I'd save you before that ever happened. Besides, this fire isn't big enough to kill you. Just burn you really badly."
"What if it was a really big fire? Would I die then?"
"They used to kill witches that way."
"Really?" she asked sounding awfully excited. "They burned them till they died?"
"That's what they thought but really they were dead long before the fire got them. They ran out of air first. Like Joan of Arc." I said.
"Wow. Wait Joan who, Joan who?" she gasped.
" Skip it, too hard to explain. Stay here," I said to her. "I'm gonna go get more wood."
"I'm coming with you." she said sounding nervous.
It had gotten dark during our talk of fire and martyrdom and she was a little nervous at the prospect of sitting alone with no light but what the fire could provide.
"Daddy?"
"Yep?" I responded.
"Can we go inside now?"
"Sure Pick. Is being in the dark making you nervous?"
"No, I just don't want any witches to come around and take the air out of our fire."
So we went inside and she went off to watch T.V. and I could see whatever fear she had of the dark or suicidal, fire sucking witches had melted away and she laughed and watched her shows and munched the rest of her popcorn. Soon it was time for bed and she kept smelling her jacket as we walked upstairs.
"My sweater smells like a hot dog. How come everything smells like a hot dog when you are by a fire?"
"It's the smell of the smoke and the wood burning." I said.
"Does everything smell like that when it's by the fire?" she asked.
"Probably." I said.
" Cool Daddy, my sweater smells like a witch!"





I had an interesting thing happen to me on the weekend. I was out, doing what I love. Playing my bagpipes and somebody was paying me for it. In addition, they offered me a free meal and a free bar. (which alas I could not enjoy as I was driving solo) I was told that at the reception I could have played as little or as much as I wanted and all in attendance seemed to enjoy what I was playing and appeared to want more.
It was hog heaven. The dream situation that one often hears of...and all I could think of was coming home and hanging out with the kids. Of course the second I walked through the door, the level of noise and chaos that met me made me think, "You fool, you were out and you were not on a time limit!"
But home I came and as I changed from my kilt into my grubby work pants, Izzy came upstairs and asked. " Daddy, are we doing this fire thing or what?"
I took her hand and we headed outside. I chuckled out loud as we walked to the garage.
"What?" Izzy asked
"Nothing, honey. Nothing at all."
"Soooo, you're laughing at nothing?" She puzzled. "OK, so...the fire?"
You never really get out...and why would I want to?