My mom likes to tell the story of when I was seven months old and said my first sentence.
I know, it sounds young, but several members of my family attest to its truth. My mom stood by the stove with me on her hip, as I’m sure she had many times. Being the kind of attentive and concerned mother who constantly talked to her child, she must have told me about the dangers of the stove since birth. So, when I saw the frying pan and told my mom, “It’s hot,” my aunts shouldn’t have been too surprised.
This weekend, I watched as a mom told her toddler that the door which led outside to the parking lot was “hot.” The little girl immediately backed away. The mom explained to me how her child had learned the hard way what “hot” was, and that now it has become a cue word for “Trust me. Don’t do it.”
I wished I had such a word.
By now, it seems advice should be easy to take. Who hasn’t asked Google, Pinterest, or a blog like this how to handle something they’ve never faced before? Who hasn’t finally flipped through the instruction manual? But how would we respond if a friend looked into our lives and said something lovingly constructive? Wouldn’t a good friend be the better source?
I told some friends about the stove, but they’re still reaching for it. It isn’t exactly the same stove that burnt me. Still, it’s a stove, and it could be . . .. “It’s hot,” I was going to say again, but they stopped me and told me they’d find out on their own. Perhaps they will. The hardest part is standing here watching, First Aid kit in hand.