About the Family Warning Label

You can read it here.

It may need some additions.

Tonight we had three houseguests from out of state and one friend over for midweek Bible study and visiting afterwards. Some of stepped outside to watch the Boy, The HM, and the Tea Chemist play. Earlier in the day they had taken one of the dog's tennis balls and stuffed it with matches. Now the duct-taped most of it, set it on a metal crate (for a platform) in the middle of the drive, and filled it with a combustible liquid, making a fuse of combustible liquid as well. Then they used the HM's new toy to, well, combust things. It was okay, but not really quite that spectacular.

Then the Boy got to play with the new toy, just randomly sending sparks flying just for fun. There was a discussion of some of the fireworks planned for the Boy's upcoming birthday. I heard about one of them and asked if we were sure this wasn't going to earn us a visit from Homeland Security. Our guest from out of state was not reassuring on this point. He thinks we're nuts.

Our local guest has been here for a few bonfires. She turned to me and said, "You know? You guys are the only parents I know who let your kids do stuff like this."

I wasn't sure that was intended as a compliment, exactly, but the Boy knew what he thought about it. "Yep," he agreed cheerfully, "That's because they're fun, and it's fun to live dangerously."

Actually, he was just being kind. I know for a fact that all of my Progeny think I am a Nervous Nelly. We have strictly assigned gender roles going on here- my husband's job is to give the children a sense of adventure and help them to be boldly daring.

Mine is to call 9-1-1.