If you love making memories with your family, but things don’t always go as planned, do you say “I Quit”, or do you keep trying to make those special memories to be remembered for years? Yeah, me too.
Once or twice a year I get brave and try to make memories with my grandchildren. Don’t judge me. I’m not as brave as you think I am. Twice a year is more than I can afford, but I do it anyway.
This is Thanksgiving week and my grandson who lives in North Carolina is here for the week. He’s spending the first couple days at my house. When his father returns from Mississippi tomorrow grandson will be going to stay the rest of the week with his Dad. I have two days to pack in all the memories I can. Well, two days before Thanksgiving, and right now memories for that day are up in the air.
I saw the cutest, easiest, holiday appropriate craft on the internet the other day. I saved it in my mind so I could share this craft with my grandchildren, making memories in the process. I don’t want to be the gray-haired, apron wearing grandmother who does nothing fun with the grandchildren. I want to be the one they remember as doing cool things with them.
This particular craft involves a brown paper bag, unpopped popcorn, a measuring spoon, red ribbon, and clear Christmas balls, and the microwave. While Matthew was out shopping with his grandfather yesterday I asked him to have his grandfather pick up the items, not including the paper bag. Those I have at home.
After a movie (that’s an entirely story by itself) and dinner out we were home and I was ready to share my crafting expertise and fun with Matthew. I told him to grab one of the balls and pull the metal top off while I got a paper bag and measuring spoon. We put all the things on the stove, opened the popcorn and were ready to put the corn in the ball when I realized the ball wasn’t glass. Ah, no matter. I put plastic in the microwave all the time.
We had a fear that the popcorn wouldn’t make it in to the ball so I had Matthew grab the funnel from the drawer behind him. I scooped the popcorn in to the tablespoon measuring spoon while he held the funnel and clear ornament. The entire time he was guessing as to what we were making.
“Can we eat it?”
“Is it for the birds?”
“Is it a popcorn bomb?”
Hey. He’s thirteen. What do you expect?”
After the corn was successfully put in to the ornament, we set the ornament in the bag and twisted as it said to do in the directions. We then placed the bag with the ornament inside in the microwave and debated over how long to nuke the thing.
The instructions said 1 to 2 minutes. We settled on 1 ½ minutes just to be safe. We do like to be safe.
I told Matthew to listen to the popping and if it stopped before 1 ½ minutes passed to open the microwave.
We began to listen.
At the 45 second mark Matthew began waving his hand over the top of the microwave door. I thought he was pointing to one of the things sitting on top. Something like my garnet earrings. Matthew kept waving.
When I asked what the arm flailing was all about he asked, “Don’t you see the smoke?”
“Smoke? Did you say smoke? Open the microwave.”
It was then we saw the flames.
I didn’t paper bags could be set on fire in the microwave.
The bag was snatched from the microwave and dropped in the sink. When we tried to unwind the bag the top separated from the bottom. The top was charred black. The bottom was still in flames.
“Matthew, grab those tweeze thingies from the drawer.”
“You know. Those things we use to turn the hot dogs.”
He did and brought them to the sink. We used them to try and separate the melted plastic ornament full of popped corn from the flaming bag. We were successful.
Quick thinking Matthew doused the newly formed ornament under the faucet, which is probably why the smoke alarm and fire alarms didn’t go off and why the fire department was spared a trip into the cold dark night.
I don’t remember much after the flaming memories. I may or may not try to locate some glass Christmas ornaments, or maybe we’ll just light a fire in the fireplace and watch a move. I know where we can get some good burning paper.
From the life and mind of Wanda M. Argersinger
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