100 year old cautionary tale

Today was blustery and kind of cold for a late January day in Houston.  The kids were outside, playing some sort of camping game with a make shift sleeping bag and I was cooking.  As I headed outside to light the grill, Annabelle asked if I could light the chiminea too, so they could have a campfire.  "No, I am busy making supper, you can ask your father when he gets home," I curtly replied.  Then I looked at her face and I knew what was going on in that little mind of hers:  "I know where the matches are, I 've seen papa light a fire, I can do this, watch me, Miss Too Busy."

I knew I needed to take action, and I knew it needed to be swift and definitive.  There was  no time for love and logic, or talking to your kids so they would listen.  I went with an old standby that has served my people well for generations--a sort of teachable moment, tejano style--which is to say, I decided to scare the shit out of her.

"Annabelle, I am going to tell you a story that is both sad and true.  You know my grandma, the brown lady?"  Nod.  "You know how grandma and I sometimes talk about her and her brothers?"  Nod.  "Well she had a sister too.  But that sister didn't always listen and behave.  And one day they were doing laundry.  Except, back then, they didn't have a washing machine, they did their laundry in huge black pots called cauldrons, and those cauldrons were outside, over a fire.  Well, they told her not to play near the fire, but she didn't listen.  And you know how Laura (little house reference) had to wear long skirts?"  Nods, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.  "Well, so did she, and she played near the fire and her skirts caught on fire, and then she caught on fire and then she died.  That is true.  So don't you play with fire, or matches or go near that chiminea or grill unless me or papa is outside, not even to play camping.  Do you understand?"  Vigorous nodding.

And all was well and then later I called my mom to confess my parental transgression.  For a change, my mom was in complete agreement with me on this one.  "you have to scare kids about fire, that's what my mom told me, to always watch you girls like a hawk, she was always terrified of you girls getting in the fire."  And justifiably so.   For my purpose, I left out the part of how she was haughty and mean to my grandma because my grandma was dark and she was light and she could speak English, even though she was the baby and my grandma could not.  We chatted some more and then I got and idea--

"Mom, this summer, we need to find her.  We need to find her grave."

"Ay, I have no idea where, she is the only one not in the family plot because they were living on a ranch at the time.  Mama knew where it was.  I guess we could go to the Church, she would have had a Catholic burial"

"Didn't you tell me once she was in Crystal City?"

"Yes, but I think they still went to church in Uvalde.  I'll ask Aunt Belia."

Squirming  in the "sleeping bag" 

"This is going to be so fun!

"Yrene.  Her name was Yrene."