Like Ben Franklin, Only Younger

Kyna attempted to electrocute herself today. I guess since she is six and in first grade we thought we were through the woods in regards to outlets and other such electrical hazards. Obviously we neglected to realize that with this increased maturity also comes the ability to go get a screwdriver from the toolbox, or to pull up a chair so she can climb on the bathroom counter, or even independently make up her mind to change her bathroom light bulbs without adult supervision. Not one of these scenarios had crossed our minds as something to watch out for, and certainly not as a combined endeavor. Yet that is exactly what happened today. Miraculously the screwdriver she chose had a rubber handle. Miraculously she lived. Miraculously neither Chris nor I had to witness the event, instead, when tidying up before bed we noticed that her bathroom lights wouldn't turn on. A flashlight revealed that none of the light bulbs were in the sockets in the lights above the mirror. Further inspection revealed the screwdriver, its metal shaft charred a smoky black.

When presented with the evidence, Kyna crumbled. Apparently there were sparks. And smoke. She had to run to the other bathroom to put a wet cloth over her eyes. I haven't yet decided if that was scary enough for her. Maybe it would have sunk in a bit more if the whole event had been set to a massive parental freak-out, which is what would have happened had I seen what was going down. I'm sure I could have coordinated my screaming with the sparks, like those firework shows set to music, only not quite so melodic.