Writing through my anger

I'm literally, LITERALLY, shaking with rage right now.

One of my children, and it should be known that, according to them, it was Not Me, decided to play with fire in our bathroom. When? I don't know. Why? Because FIRE is AWESOME. I get that. It's fascinating and mesmerizing and we are all drawn to the flickering power that can be held within our hands.

I came across multiple small items that had been obviously burned, snuffed out, and then stuffed behind the upstairs toilet.... Yes. Stuffed together, behind the toilet. God only knows how well they were put out before the culprit, Not Me, decided to "hide them." My hysteria brought on many tears, from all 3 of us, and will hopefully result in Not Me realizing the absolute SERIOUSNESS of this situation.  My entire family could have died from a slow burning fire. Just writing that has me crying, yet again...

Also! I am not only worried about this pyro stage within one of my kids, but about the inability of the same child to hide their wrong doings!! Who leaves ashes all over the floor? Who rubs burnt materials on the bathroom sink, leaving a black trail, and then WALKS AWAY?!?

Deep breaths, in and out.

Trying to regain my composure...