You’ve Met Your Match

(I am five years old, and we have moved into a brand new house. One day, shortly after the move, I see my dad putting matches away and I ask them what they are.)

Dad: “These are matches, [My Name]. You can never touch them, you hear? They can burn down the house with everyone in it. In fact, if you even so much as look at them, they might set the house on fire! And then all your stuff will be gone and you will be sad.” *proceeds to put matches high up*

(Nearly 15 years pass, and the trauma stays with me to the point I can’t light even the long matches without freaking out. And one day, we get a complementary match book from a hotel, which my younger sister has no problem opening up and lighting a few as we wait.)

Me: *watches in horror*

Sister: “Want one?”

Me: “NO! How are you not afraid of burning something down?!”

Sister: “They are just matches.” *holds an unlit one out to me*

Me: *jumps back and refuses to even touch one*

Sister: *to dad* “Did you scare her about matches?”

Dad: *casually* “Might’ve.”