I went out and bought a ton of matches and an aluminum bucket last weekend but we didn't get a chance to work with-difficult child until today. Originally husband and I were going to take turns, in case difficult child melted down, so one of us could be relieved of duty while the fresh parent came onboard, but at the last min, I ran errands while husband did it by himself. He's much better with-difficult child than I am ... a man's deep voice, more authoritative, all that. Now husband insists that the child psychiatric only said 200 matches. I think he said 500. husband only made difficult child light 350. But at least he stood there the entire time. He said difficult child whined through the whole thing and tried to walk away about 4X. He coughed through the sulfur every time he lit one and really complained. husband is convinced that difficult child now hates matches and will not be playing with-them again. I can only hope so! He's been quite the Dennis The Menace lately. On top of breaking his window with-a baseball and lighting matches last wk, he's done a bunch of things, but the one I thought was a combination of the cleverest and the most passive/aggressive was his response to my telling him that he trashed my car. He had run off to play with-his friends instead of taking out his trash (McDonald's bag, etc.), backpack, and baseball bag, so I put it all in the middle of the driveway. The next time he ran into the house I told him he was not allowed to do anything until he cleaned it all up. He rushed back out and then back in and told me it was done. Yesterday I found the red flag up on the mailbox, and knew I hadn't put any outgoing mail in there. I looked inside and found his McDonald's trash! So now he has to write 100 X, "I am sorry I put my trash in the mailbox."