Tried to burn the house down last night. Not really on purpose, of course. We'd gotten a pizza, and Doug was studying before he ate. He put the box in the oven, and turned it on low. About an hour later I thought I should turn it off so that I didn't forget and go to bed with it on. Little did I know that instead of turning it off, I turned it to broil. Erin smelled it something and I got up to check on Ethan's diaper, and instantly knew what I'd done.
Opened the oven, sure enough, box on fire. I was remarkably calm. I got a pot holder, pulled it out, and ran water on it in the sink. I'd show you a picture of the charred remains, but Doug took them out this morning. Lots of smoke, and the house now smells like a campsite. Yuck.
Good news though! The pizza was mostly still good.
The kids were freaked, but handled it well.
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