Going up in flames.

So # 1 (and only) son comes home from school the other day bubbling over with excitement. Now as generally he puts on this long-suffering aura of 'thank god that's over' the moment he sees me, this is atypical.

The obligatory question: 'how was school?' was met with the totally UN-typical 'EXCELLENT!'

Uh, what?

Swallowing my instantaneous reaction of 'who are you and what have you done with my son?' I had to query on this most excellent mood...

I wish I hadn't.

Turns out my kid has enrolled himself in the elective class of  'Extreme Science' and had spent the afternoon creating grenades, launchers and above all, setting themselves on fire. All teacher-mandated, of course.

What's more, my kid was apparently 'best-in-class' at not flinching when set aflame so was chosen to be the crash-test-dummy to re-enact the Statue of Liberty, complete with flaming arm.

I'm so proud.

This was going to be the year I was going to teach E how to build a fire so that he could have our wood-fired heater warming the house for my triumphant return from work each evening.

Now however, I'm thinking perhaps locking up all matches, lighters and basically anything flammable from my budding little pyro might be the best course of action.

Crap.

Bec xx