Fiyaah!

Last night the entire family was in the kitchen getting ready for dinner. I was standing at the sink, Rob was getting salad ready, there was steak in the broiler and the J-man was in his high chair swinging his legs and waiting for Mommy to hurry-up-already with his lasagna.

So, I'm standing there cutting up his dinner in little pieces and all of a sudden he yells at the top of his lungs (not very loud considering his voice condition), "FIYAAAH!"

I turned around quickly to the stove, but there was nothing on it. I looked at J who calmly looked back at me and didn't say anything further. I turned back to the counter, blinking in confusion trying to think what in the world J could have meant by that. Rob laughed.

I turned back around and looked at J who swung his legs a couple more times and just looked at me. On a whim, I bent down to look into the stove and sure enough there was a fire in there. I didn't even know J knew what fire was.

"Hey, honey, your steak is on fire!"

Rob bounded across the kitchen with a yellow oven mitt and began to beat the crap out of flaming dead cow flesh as J began yelling "FIYAAAH" again.

The child has far greater potential for genius than Rob and I, that's for sure.