I had just arrived for a usual day of babysitting at my sister Elsie's home. She was almost ready to leave for work, and quickly curling her short, dark hair with a curling iron that was plugged into her range.
We were discussing the day's agenda, while I helped her two pre-school children, Jalise (3), and Jasel (16 months) into their places at the breakfast table. It was her husband Jack's birthday, and she showed me his favourite chocolate cake recipe. I promised to have it ready, and the kids primed for a birthday supper for their Daddy.
Elsie unplugged her curling iron and laid on the middle of the stove top to cool, and hurried off to the hospital, where she was in charge of the kitchen.
After breakfast I had Jalise and Jasel "help me" to take the pots and pans stored in the oven out and put on top of the stove, so we could slide in the big chocolate cake.
We were just settling into the living room couch with a stack of story books, when I smelled smoke and glanced toward the range.
"Oh no!" I yelled, shoving the kids off my lap.
I dashed over, snatched off the stacked pots and pans and saw the cord of the curling iron in flames.
Down I put the pots on the vinyl kitchen floor, and grabbed up the iron, shaking out the little flames as the cord unfolded.
For a bit I carried it about wondering if I dared put it down at all. All the while trying to hush the kids who were shrieking. Out of fright or sense of adventure, I wasn't sure just right away, but I needed to focus on what to do about that iron. At last I dashed down the few steps to the outer door, and laid the curling iron on the snow bank.
By this time Jalise was prancing a hysterical tattoo and Jasel was piercing the air with his shrieks, so I gathered them to myself to comfort them. I assured them it was all over and we were fine. Just fine.
When we'd calmed down, I said "Hey, we better pickup these pots off the floor before we trip on them." Jalise, ever my eager helper, was glad to pick up. But when I tried to lift the biggest pan from the floor, I had to give it a little yank. It seemed glued on. Up came a patch of the vinyl flooring with it.
It was then that I realized that somehow the larger stove element had been on low while the cord, caught between the element and this stainless steel pan had ignited the wiring. The pan had got fairly warm too! (I probably bumped the nob for the element putting the pots and pans there to clear the oven).
That hole in the vinyl frightened the children all over again. So I laid a paper grocery bag over it.
Gradually they stopped pointing at it, and I drew them back to our stack of story books on the couch.
When the cake was done and came out, I cheerfully explained again about Daddy's birthday and how we would have a great supper, and show him lots of love. We made him some paper birthday cards with their crayons.
Underneath, I was worried that Elsie and Jack would think I was not a good babysitter, but I dared not show my own fears to the kids.
Jack was home first, and brought in the iron from the snow bank, wanting to know what happened. Upon hearing our story, he assured me I'd been resourceful and their house insurance would cover the cost of a new vinyl floor covering.
Elsie was shaken when she heard about it, but she responded nobly too, thanking me for being such a good surrogate mom. All was well in the end.
About the Author: Ruth Marlene Friesen is a novelist, web designer and friend with more imagination that she can use up! You'll find her touch and words all over Ruthe's Secret Roses, and about half a dozen other sites. Ruth tends to get involved if you become her friend! She takes mentoring seriously.
Ruth Marlene Friesen
The Responsible One
Privacy Promises ~~
Sitemap
Ruthe's Secret Roses (official site)
©2001-2022 Ruth Marlene Friesen
Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada