Last night I spontaneously combusted. Well, perhaps it wasn't too spontaneous. While attempting to boil water (insert obvious joke here) I bent down to retrieve a storage container that had fallen on the floor and my hair hit the flame on the gas burner. I heard a loud "Woosh!" and up in flames I went. At first I thought, "Hmm... what was that noise?" then I saw the sparks falling from my head and I knew right away. I quickly remembered what I had learned in elementary school: "STOP, DROP and ROLL!!" So, I dropped to my kitchen floor and began rolling around. After extinguishing myself, I looked up at my 16-month-old who was peering down at me, grinning, as if I had staged the whole incident for his entertainment.
The next thing I knew, the fire alarm began going off, and my two oldest came running downstairs to see what was on fire. Once I explained it had been me, I quickly used the experience as a learning opportunity — mostly just to restore some credibility. In my now-brown sweater, burnt hairs falling from my head, I said in my stern mommy voice, "This is why I don't let you guys get near the stove while I'm cooking." My 5 year old simply looked into my eyelash-singed eyes and said, "Gee mom, you really smell bad!"
I was OK though. My ego and my hair remain a bit singed, and my favorite comfy sweater has smoke damage. But nevertheless, I'm OK.
But tonight — we're ordering pizza.