I don’t think I was obsessed with fire as much as most boys at eight. I grew up on acreage. My dad put me in charge of burning the trash in the burn barrel by about that time. There wasn’t much packed in plastic back then; we took plastics and stuff that wouldn’t burn to the dump because it stank, and we composted left over food.
He also had me burn ant piles using gasoline and diesel oil. If he had a big pile of brush that he was burning, he had me keep an eye on that as well. I think that when something is a chore that you are assigned... it instantly becomes less fascinating. It is too bad there isn’t much constructive that kids can do these days with fire. I remember when my dad tried to get my sister to burn the trash when she was around 12, she cried and said she didn’t know how. My little brother and I thought that was hilarious.
When my friend and I got caught playing with matches in their hay bales, my college educated mother got a huge box of kitchen matches, sat me in the dirt and made me light every single match and put it out. It took forever and was boring.
Exhausted the desire. Lesson learned.