I recently received an email and the woman wanted to know how to best educate her small child on fireplace safety, in particularly. I was more than happy to provide her with basic safety tips, general ideas on what to do, what to say, etc. Then, after we went through all the safety precautions to take, she had emailed me back and commented on how 'fire smart' my own kids must be. Let me just say, my oldest learns fast..........
.......... I still remember the very first time my EX wife and I had to explain the concept of fire to Barney's Biggest Fan, our daughter. She may never forgive us. One night here in Winnipeg, the temperature had dipped to an intolerably frigid - 43C (if not colder) and I thought it would be a good time to clear the cobwebs from the fireplace and spark up a Duraflame log, lest my family and I be reduced to putting on long sleeves. Not 30 seconds after I set the log alight, Barney's Biggest Fan (our daughter) wandered over to the marble fireplace in our living room and gazed into the flames. *Big Gasp*
You know what came next. She moved purposefully towards the flames, clearly wanting to touch them. In my opinion, the situation was under control. I was going to let her get close enough to the fire to feel the heat and then tell her that the feeling is called "hot" and that's why we don't get close to the fire. But when her mother entered the room and saw our daughter close enough to the fire to be cast in an orangery glow (but not close enough to, say, make a s'more), her mother freaked out! And then she turned and freaked on me even more.
"Honey! No! Hot!" her mother said. She then turned yet once again to me and threw me a disdainful look that told be unequivocally that any hope I may have had for sex that night, was dead... in no way happening.
We asked Barney's Biggest Fan is she understood.
"Yes," she said. "Hot. Hot."
Then, she turned away from the both of us and marched straight toward the fireplace again.
"Nooooo!" I said. "Hot. That's fire. Danger. No touching."
"Hot!" she parroted back. "No. Hot!"
She then turned and marched straight toward the fireplace yet again.
At this point, given my extensive parenting experience, university education and spectacular command of the obvious, I could see that our approach wasn't getting through to the child. It was perhaps time to provide a more visual lesson.
I marched over to her toy box, fished for one of her million stuffed Barney dolls, my daughter's holy grail at the time, and returned with the little purple dinosaur. Without a word, I held Barney up to my daughter's face and then tossed the little f**ker into the fireplace. The asbestos-stuffed dinosaur immediately burst into flames and vanished faster than a pack of condoms on a good weekend for some lucky horny teen. I then turned to my daughter.
"See? I asked. "Hot. That's fire. Danger. No touching."
Case was closed. From that night on, she never once went anywhere even remotely near our fireplace.
(I do provide parenting consultations on the side. Email me. Ha.Ha.Ha.)╔════════════════╗
LadderJockey
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