Boys, Boys, BOYS!

So this summer is going by rather quickly. Some days I'd like it to slow down so I can enjoy it, others school can't start fast enough. Katie will start high school on August 17 and the rest of the kids start school August 26.
This summer has been filled with baseball, cheer leading, play rehearsals and as much time as possible enjoying the water and boating at Grandma and Grandpa's. Add in any free activities I can come up with in the Omaha area and I've been surprised at the things my sons have found time to do, usually while I've been at work.
I called home late in the afternoon about a week and a half ago to check on the progress of chores. I had gotten an exasperated text from Katie that said "I'm done! They don't know how to listen!" Okay, nothing knew.
First I talked to Alycia (age 11) she's old enough to inspire and lead her younger brothers in the direction of helping. She's really good at telling me what I want to hear. She said she's help and make sure to help Danny (age 8). I asked to talk to Danny. Here's our conversation.
"Hi Mom!"
"Hi Danny. I'm not very happy."
"Why? Oh, I know....the fire."
I think at this point, my eyes popped out of my head! "What fire?"
"Oh...why aren't you happy?" Nice avoidance.
"No, tell me about the fire."
"No," he said, pleading his case, "Why aren't you happy?"
At this point a good mother would have stuck her ground and continued to argue with the 8 year old and have the power struggle of who was going to answer the question first; or so I told myself. Me, I gave in...
"I'm not happy because you're not helping with chores. Now, tell me about the fire."
"Um...Oh...Uh...." click.
I'm sitting in the break room at work thinking, "Did that really just happen?" I called right back and Alycia answered again. I said "Tell me about the fire."
"Oh, Danny was outside with the neighbor kids and one of them dared him to start a fire, so he lit newspapers on fire in the driveway."
"When did that happen?"
"This morning."
"Why am I just hearing about it now?"
"I'm not sure."
"Where did he get the lighter."
"He won't say."
"Wonderful. Okay, tell him he's not allowed to play outside. He needs to go to his room until I get home. I'll deal with him then."
For the life of me I couldn't figure out where, or how he had gotten matcher or a lighter. The only thing I could think of was the one I use to start the grill, on the top shelf, along the side of the cabinet, so I even have to feel around to find it when I'm looking for it. Unless, Dennis had something in the basement I didn't know about.
When I got home that night, we sat Danny down to explain, for the umpteenth time, fire is dangerous. Fire can hurt you and your friends and your brother and sisters. Fire can burn our house down. It's not a toy. "Where did you get the lighter?"
"I don't know."
"It just appeared in your hands?"
"Yes."
"Really? Do you think I'm buying that?"
"Please?"
"NO! Listen, this is on Mom and Dad. We need to make sure we are keeping things in a safe place. I need to know, where did you find the lighter."
"On top of the refrigerator."
"One might think that was a safe place for a lighter to not be reached by an 8 year old. Okay." I really wasn't sure what to say. Most kids, I think, grow out of the whole climbing on things by age 8. My sister was 3 when she climbed up on top of the refrigerator and dumped the flour on top of herself. By 8, she'd moved on to bigger and better trouble. Granted by 8 my brother was starting fires in the hallways at the apartments behind our house. Why am I paying for his evil ways? Aren't we suppose to get kids just like ourselves. I wasn't in trouble like that. I've even had my own kids climb. Justin thought it would be fun at age 3 to not dump a full jar of cinnamon, but make it rain cinnamon on my kitchen carpet.
I actually had to have a conversation with him then where these words came out of my mouth. "Danny, if you can't reach it with your feet on the ground; it's not meant for you to reach." Isn't 7 the age of reason? That should work, right?
Thankfully, no one was hurt. The fire really never got started, and a quick thinking neighbor kid (older brother to the darer) was able to stomp it out.
A few days later, we were at my mom's house. I was helping her clean for a Fourth of July party. Alycia came in the house to announce that Danny was sitting on top of my van. Not on the hood, on the roof.
"DANIEL! ARE YOUR FEET ON THE GROUND?"