That Pita In Her Place

(I’m nine years old, and we are living with my granddad because we’ve moved into the city from abroad. Mum has put a pita bread in the toaster while scolding me, and has turned her back to the toaster. After a point, I see something very wrong.)

Me: “Mum…”

Mother: “Look at me, young lady!”

Me: *seeing smoke, more nervous* “Mum…”

Mother: “Look at me!”

Me: *seeing flames* “MUM! THE PITAS ARE ON FIRE!”

(My mother shoves me into the front room while she contends with it. My sister comes down into the front room.)

Sister: “What’s wrong?”

Me: “Mum was too busy telling me off to notice that there was a fire behind her.”