There’s a good reason fireworks are illegal in this country, as it turns out, and it’s because they can set your house on fire. Of course, that’s only if you’re silly about the whole thing, but that’s how Keynan was born: silly. I went to the milk bar to get some…milk, and I came home to find that he’d set off the whole box of them in the living room.
Long story short, we’re homeless. That’s the last time I leave my idiot son alone in a house with fireworks, that we probably shouldn’t even have had in the first place. It’s a pretty nice hotel, though, and it was nice of the insurance people to put us up for a few nights while we look for a new place. Heck, we’ve been meaning to build a place for a while now; maybe this is our chance.
Might be a chance to make some improvements as well. First thing I’m doing is finding someone for good air conditioning services close to Melbourne, because that was one thing we were definitely lacking. We’re going to have to put some kind of parents lock on the controls, because Keynan’s ability to set things on fire knows no bounds, but otherwise it’d be great to finally have air conditioning. Oh, and we’re getting rid of that open fireplace. Chopping the wood is just miserable, and then there’s Keynan’s habit of poking the blazing logs with a poked to see if he can spike a chunk of flaming wood, then waving it around like it’s a sparkler.
Nope, we’re having real heating. Real heating, and real cooling, actual Melbourne grade air conditioning that works and is reliable, both of them heavily locked so that there are no more accidents, like that one time when Keynan folded four electric blankets together to see if he could set them alight, or when he made a flamethrower out of a lighter and a can of hairspray to reenact one of his rock music videos.
We really need to watch Keynan more closely.