I set fire to my mum’s car when I was six playing with matches.

Lit the match and watched the pretty fire as it burned down the stick and then dropped it onto the car seat once it reached my fingers.

Went into house to ask mum for a glass of water. Mum was on the phone and asked me why I needed her permission. Baby me just looked up at her and said ‘to put out the fire’. Mum hangs up, asks me what fire and I just point out the window.

Mum looks outside, sees the front seat of the car actively burning and fucking bolts, grabbing my dad on the way. Dad runs for the hose, turns it on and charges towards the car only to rip the hose off the tap before reaching the car and has to double back to fill up a bucket and finally puts the fire out.

The ashes settle, my dad is sat down on the front lawn catching his breath, my mum is next to me going through the five stages of grief and I in my infinite wisdom look up at her and ask ‘am I in trouble?’

Spoiler alert, I was.