Where There's Smoke There's Fire

Snuggling by a roaring fire next to the fireplace is relaxing and cozy.  Not if you live in my house.  Here,  a fire is lit and sends excitement through the air.

I was in the shower and Amaya came barging in.  Slapping her hand against the glass, pressing a piece of paper against the fogged shower door.

"Do we need this?"  She asked impatiently.

"What is it?"  I yelled over the water.

"I don't know, do we need it?  I don't want to go."  She stated with urgency.

I tried to make out the writing through the glass and it appeared to be a flier advertising a play.

"No we don't need it,"  I answered.

"Good, then I'm gonna burn it,"  she said, and a little too enthusiastic for my comfort.

Naturally concerned, I went into the family room and found where all the excitement was taking place.  The kids sat in front of the fireplace, each with their own piles of papers collected throughout the house to burn.  There was old homework papers, coupons, book marks, candy wrappers, grocery store ads, Rio's old shoes...if it could catch fire it was in their piles.

"Is this a good idea?"  I asked the other grown-up in the room.  But my husbands eyes were glossed over, starring at the fire with the kids.

I snapped my fingers, "Helloooo."

"What? I've got it under control," he said shooing me away. "It's fine."

Since then, many important papers have gone missing around the house and my husband can't think of where they could of gone.

"I have no idea,"  I tell him.