Oh curse my small stature . . . and the fact I don't speak much adult yet.
Building a fire with Daddy can be a bonding situation. I love giving him pieces of wood to load into the fireplace.
It brings me back to my early days when I was a fat little baby who couldn't even walk. I would just lay and bask in front of that fire and roast like a pig on a spit. It was heavenly.
Of course there is no Father/Son bonding if Daddy won't build one for me on demand. No matter how much I screamed and pointed at the door to the downstairs where the wood is stored he didn't have a clue. I want a FIRE Daddy! Why can't you get my demands through your thick skull Daddy. Finally out of desperation I went to the fireplace and the words I was searching for finally came out as I wailed FIRE!
Daddy's response, try to distract me with Caillou until Mommy came home and put me to bed. Oh was I mad! Lucky for Daddy I had exhausted so much energy yelling at him that I fell asleep like a log on a roaring fire.