It’s cold in Florida.
Translation: It is below 60 outside and we are a family of wimps.
Alannah is spending the night at a friend’s house.
Translation: Please momma can I go stay up all night and laugh and giggle and come home and be insufferable tomorrow because I am so tired.
So, because of the aforementioned cold, Mandy and Zachary asked me to start a fire in the fireplace.
Transalation: Go to garage haul in faux wood Duraflame. Use long fancy lighter to set fire to the arrows and VOILA! I am woman! Hear me roar! I made fire!
OR …
NOT!
Tonight’s version went something like this:
“Momma would you make a fire? It’s cold.”
“Sure! Maybe we can even roast marshmallows!”
Go to garage.
Get faux wood.
Get long fancy lighter.
Open glass doors on fireplace.
Wonder aloud if that thingamigig is supposed to be forward or backward. Decide forward looks good. Because why on earth would anyone have moved it from the last time we had a fire? That would just be stupid.
Chuck Duraflame onto little brick Duraflame-holder-upper-things.
Light arrows on paper. Careful to follow “Light here” arrows precisely.
Ahhh, fire. I made fire. I made happy kids. All is good. I am good mommy. We are Norman Rockwell painting. Sigh a deep sigh of accomplishment.
