So Dan and the boys are planning a Survivorman camping trip where they will light their own fires and catch their own food. Very caveman, very glad-I’m-not-invited.
This morning Eamon has been practicing his fire techniques with a bow-drill. In the living room. He’s been rubbing furiously at a piece of wood for quite some time now. I wonder what it says about me that I have not yet panicked. Am I a supportive mother in that I let him practice his boy things right here in the house without freaking out? Or am I an un-supportive mother because I am living under the assumption that we won’t be seeing any fire here soon? Would not a more encouraging parent be confident that her son was about to succeed and tell him, “What are trying to do? Light the house on fire? Get that thing out of here!”
Either way, Eamon doesn’t seem to care. He is focused on the task at hand. So far we have heat, but no flame. I’ll keep you posted.