It was bedtime in the fall of 1992. I had four kids at the time. Girls, ages 5 and 7, a 2-1/2 year-old, and and a baby, around 7-8 months old. I had just put Josh, the two-year-old, to bed, and carried the baby, Ben, on my hip to check that the girls were settling in. My husband, David, was studying for his P.E., his lap full of books and binders, his mind purring along.
As I got to the girls' room, I heard a terrified scream come from Josh. It was one of those get-there-now! screams, and I ran to see what was up. As I approached the room, there was an orange glow coming out of it - fire! I screamed for David as I nearly dropped Ben at the doorway and ran in to get Josh off his bed, which was on fire.
Josh was trapped behind the fire, in the corner the bed was in, but I got around it, grabbed him, and took him out of the room. By this time, David had flung the books off and was in the room. He tried to beat the fire out with a blanket, but it just kept coming alive again. This was because of the mattress, an old one filled with Spanish moss of all things! We had to haul it outside and douse it with water. Still it stayed lit. Finally I suggested David cut it open like a bun, and douse it. That worked.
All this started because Josh snuck some matches into bed.
So I have two pieces of advice for moms:
1. Don't use old mattresses. Use new, non-flammable ones.
2. Don't keep matches. We have only kid-proof lighters in the house now, as we have a five-year-old son.
God was good.
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