Boy Scout

Now that the weather has cooled down considerably we have started to have constant fires in our fireplace. Last year we perfected the fire-building-and-keeping skills (well, I perfected mine, as P was already quite adept in this area). For example, we can now keep a fire going all night long, and have a fair amount of coals in the morning to work with. You can imagine that a day when we "let the fire go out" to clean out the ashes is both nerve-racking and relieving. Relieving in that we rely on our propane to heat the house for a few hours, and nerve racking because I doubt whether I will be able to effectively start another one, my main role being "fire keeper" and not "fire starter". (However, the task this year has been considerably easier because of the many little scraps of wood produced by P's wood shop.)

I also have a helper this year. We have spent much parental energy sternly teaching him to stay away from the fireplace. (Quite a feat, might I add, because it is not really "hot" in the summer, and it is difficult to explain the dangers within an empty fireplace to an 18 month old.) Regardless of our attemps, the warm glow of the coals draws him each time we open the doors of the fireplace to add more wood. P is more excited to have him involved than I am- he will let the small boy lift the big pieces of wood and hand them over to be placed carefully in the fire. I, on the other hand, prefer to keep Ryan in a fireproof bubble at the neighbors house two miles away when I go near the baby-killing inferno.

This confuses Ryan, and each time I head to the front door with the intention of bringing in new fuel, my helper is fast on my heels, ready to be of assistance. Yesterday, for example, I brought in three pieces. He tried to lift them, and my protective mamma-arm kept him clear away. "Too hot!" I tried to explain.

He understood this term and took a step closer, blowing with all of his might like one would on a spoonful of warm soup. "Just gonna cool it down some, then, mom!" When I still would not let him close, he watched from a distance, and then noticed something else. He reached over to pick up a glove, and put it on his hand to mimic my own preparations. At this point the protective bear in me also noticed that he really just wantd to be of help, like dad lets him. So I closed the fireplace up, let him come close enough to lift the log up to me. I exclaimed a big "Thank you!" for his help and off he went, satisfied with his contribution.

Next I think I will begin teaching him how to filet fish using his very own pocket knife. Or perhaps how to hunt and trap small game animals., since we are in Iowa after all, and fishing for food isn't really "advisable".