The Great Mail Fire of 2011

The most exciting thing to happen at the end of 2011 (besides having a daycare explode with infant toys in our middle room) was the Great Mail Fire.

The house was smelling a little too much like urine for my liking (cloth diapers, 2 cats whose litter boxes don't get the attention they need, and one old dog who sometimes forgets that the foyer isn't outside), so I lit a couple of candles before waiting for Milo to bounce off the bus and meet Violet and me at the mailbox.

The babies were napping upstairs as we all battled some strong winds to get back into the house, Violet snatched the newspaper's weekly flyer from my hands so she could "read" it. She settled into a little blue wooden chair and looked positively grown up with her legs crossed as she pored over the classifieds.

I heard Willa over the monitor, so I went upstairs to get her, smothering her sweet smiling face with a billion kisses. As I was headed down the hallway to the stairs, I heard a commotion downstairs.

Both Milo and Violet were yelling, but I could tell they weren't yelling at each other. Their voices sounded panicked as they called, "Mom!! Mom!! MOM!!"

Something's not right...

I rush down the stairs to be greeted by to terrified and incoherent children, eyes wide, tears flowing. The only word I could understand was "Fire!" Milo dragged me by the hand to the dining room where a lovely blaze was glowing. On top of my table.

Without realizing that there was a lit candle on the table, Violet had flipped the newspaper up there, where it instantly caught fire in a "poof!" kind of way. She screamed, Milo came running, then they both started calling for me.

I handed Willa to Milo and told him to take her into the other room. I urged Violet that direction, too. She managed to get out of my way, hopping from foot to foot in fear.

I looked over what was burning and realized that one thing on fire was the parchment paper between layers of frosted Christmas cookies. In a metal pan, the metal lid lying on the table next to it. I flipped the lid on the pan and put out that portion of the fire.

About that time, the smoke detector went off, screaming "Beep! Beep! Beep! Fire! Exit the house! Beep! Beep! Beep! Fire! Exit the house!"

The kids wailed and Milo started begging me to leave the house.

"Just a minute!" I said as I picked up a lovely thick bath towel, which I laid carefully over the rest of the blaze, smothering the flames.

"Please, mom! We have to go!" Milo clutched my hand, yanking me toward the door.

"It's OK, buddy -- I got it, see? No more fire."

By this time, Willa had joined the crying, though she was crying because she was hungry, not because she thought the house was going to burn down.

With one eye out for smoldering embers, I scooped Milo and Violet close and told them that the fire was out and we were OK and it was all over now. And that I needed to clean up.

What did we lose in this blaze? A placemat, a three-ring-binder (but not the paper inside), a red tablecloth with white snowflakes (amazingly, a duplicate), the Christmas cookies in the pan, and the nice, thick bath towel I used to put out the final flames.

I opened the front and back door to blow out the smoke, the wind rushed through the house, sending up a swirling cloud of burned newspaper ash. I closed the door and cleared off the table, noting a scorched spot about the size of a silver dollar.

I texted Scott that we'd had a fire, but were fine. He called back instantly for clarification. I fed Willa.

And then I had a talk about fire safety with Milo and Violet. It went something like this:

Me: That was scary, huh?
Them: (Sniffling with still-wide eyes) Uh-huh.
Me: Makes you think twice about playing with fire, doesn't it?
Them: Uh-huh.
Me: Do you think you'll ever want to play with matches or with candles?
Them: Nu-uh.
Me: I'm glad you didn't try to put out the fire. You did the right thing by getting Mommy right away.
Them: Uh-huh.
Me: Are you still scared?
Them: Uh-huh.
Me: It's OK now -- we're all fine.
Them: Uh-huh.
Me: Do you need hugs?
Them: Uh-huh!

I think that was the first conversation I've ever had with them where they agreed with each other the whole time. Now I know I just need to scare the pants off them by putting them in mortal danger and they'll get along perfectly!