Asher had a birthday recently. I’ve gone on and on about it because—well, because I love celebrating and I think he’s the bees knees. Here are some shots of his jungle birthday cake and the party we had with his friends.

This cake was so much fun to make. The most time-consuming part was baking two separate cakes in three containers: two round cake pans and one large pyrex bowl. It took me a while to figure out what to do with this, but I ultimately decided I wanted to have them placed next to each other, with one being higher than the other two. Then I realized I didn’t have any kind of serving platter big enough to do that, so I went out to the garage and found a big piece of particle board. I wrapped the top in green paper and voila!

These plastic toys are Playmobil toys (plus a mismatched hippo) that Lucas got as gifts years ago. He never much cared for Playmobil and they come with a gazillion pieces, so these were packed up in the garage as a someday/rainy day toy set. They came in very handy for decorating this cake and I think they made it look spectacular.

My real stroke of brilliance—the part I’ll take credit for—was using the veggies to make it look jungly. I went round and round my local supermarket looking for candy and cookies and things that I could use as jungle plants and trees. I didn’t find much. Then it occured to me that the best way to do plants would be to use plants. I bought one bunch of dino kale, one pot of living wheat grass, and one bunch of parsley. Oh, and a pineapple, mainly for it’s spiny top. I worried that Asher might freak out when he saw veggies on his birthday cake, but fortunately the jungle animals distracted him and he seemed pretty awed by it.

I used the Waldorf birthday cake recipe and a chocolate zucchini cake recipe. I used store-bought frosting in a can, and used Wilton brand food dye to color it. What’s kind of weird is that the sand colored frosting changed to light green when we were at the park for the party.

Anyway, it was a jungley party at the park and the weather was perfect. The five guests plus older siblings ran about like crazy and played on the play equipment most of the time. Ian took the kids on a jungle expedition through the almond orchard that is adjacent to the park and then they played parachute games.

That was tons of fun. We ate sandwiches and fruit salad and ants on logs. Asher got some fine presents that he’s excited about and all the kids got an animal mask and a plush animal in their goody bags. I wish I had a picture of them—Lucas painted an animal on each goody bag and they were beautiful.

All this started with Asher wanting to be a monkey at his birthday party. Alas, we had no monkey mask. But he was quite taken with the zebra, so the crisis was averted. Here his is with one of his best buddies. It was a great success.

We came home afterward and prepared for Party Stage Two, which was just family and was lovely.

Here are our Top 10 Winter Books for Children. These are our tried-and-true, beloved “read-it-again” books. Many are inexpensive paperbacks, and you might even find some at your local library or used bookstore. I needn’t rank them, I think. If you do delve into any of these with your children, please comment here and tell me what you think. Also, please tell me if you have other favorite winter books to share!

The Snowy Day by Ezra Jack Keats is a classic. You probably read it when you were a child. Have you seen this book lately? The simple text beautifully describes a sweet day of snow play and all of the experiences of snowy weather that would appeal to young children. The boy, Peter, pays attention to his footprints, finds a just-right stick, makes snow angels, pretends, and tries to keep a snowball in his pocket. When he comes inside, his mama helps him take off his wet socks. Sound familiar?

Snow by Cynthia Rylant gently reminds us that playing outside among the drifts and snowflakes and then being snug and warm at home are the great gifts of snow. Others are angels, new friends, and the reminder that only memories last forever. “It will say that it is all right to be happy.” I like books that say that we can be happy in simple things, such as tumbling down a hill or taking a walk to see how beautiful the world is. Underneath all this lovely snow, the flowers are sleeping and the soft green gardens wait.

When Winter Comes by Nancy Van Laan answers some very good questions about how birds and animals adapt to winter’s cold temperatures. Chances are good that your children have asked these exact questions of you at some time. The language is lyrical and rhyming. A mommy, daddy, and child explore nature together to find out what happens “when winter comes and the cold winds blow.” I feel this book models how you can enjoy nature outdoors even when it’s cold and dark in winter.

This one we don’t own, but we are greatly enjoying our library copy. Animals in Winter, by Henrietta Bancroft and Richard G. Van Gelder, explains in simple language what the birds, butterflies, bats, woodchuck, pikas, squirrels, mice, deer, rabbits, and foxes do to survive the cold season of winter. The authors deftly explain the concepts of migration, hibernation, food storage, foraging, and hunting as survival techniques. The book also tells you how you can help birds find enough food in winter by building bird feeders and keeping them supplied with seeds, nuts, and fruits.

Another science-oriented library book that nevertheless is filled with wonder at the beauty inherent in snow crystals is The Story of Snow: The Science of Winter’s Wonder by Mark Cassino and Jon Nelson, Ph.D. There are several amazing snow crystal photography books on the market, but this one does the best job of explaining to children how snow crystals form. The macro photography is beautiful and your child may gasp with delight upon seeing the intricate shapes that snow crystals form in nature. These photos make my heart soar.

The Tomten is a perennial favorite. We have a beat-up old paperback copy that we read again and again. This book was adapted by Astrid Lindgren from a poem by Viktor Rydberg and has a delightfully slow pace. Not much happens, and what does happens in a repetitious and comforting way, just the kind of simple rhythm that young children respond to so well. A Tomten takes care of the animals of the farm during the dead of night, when everyone is sleeping and no one can see him. No one has ever seen him, but they know he is there. He whispers to the cows in tomten language, “Winters come and winters go, Summers come and summers go, Soon you can graze in the fields.” He has a similarly reassuring message for the horses, the sheep, and the chickens. He is a special friend of the dog. He wishes the children were awake so he could talk to them, too, in tomten language that they can understand, but of course children sleep through the night.

Sybille von Olfers is a favorite among Waldorf-oriented families for good reasons. The Snow Children is the story of Poppy, who goes to play outside when her mother is running an errand away from home. She meets the snow children, who happily take her to visit the Snow Queen. She travels through the snowy woods to the Queen’s ice castle on a sledge pulled by Swirly-Wind. She meets the Snow Queen and the Princess, and gets to join in her birthday celebration featuring white chocolate and sweet ice-cold tea. After a fine time, Poppy is ready to return home to her mother, and eagerly tells her all about her adventures.

Winter Waits by Lynn Plourde is part of her series of seasonal books, all of which are illustrated by Greg Couch. In this story, Winter is personified as a rambunctious little boy who tries to get his dad, Father Time, to play with him. Unfortunately, Dad is working. While he waits, Winter paints the grass with frost and makes the world sparkle with white. Dad asks him to be patient a bit more. In the meantime, Winter carves ice sculptures out of mountain waterfalls. He wants to show Father Time his creation, but the father’s work still isn’t done. So the boy cuts intricate snowflakes and sprinkles them about. Finally, when presented with the miracle gift of a snowflake, Father says, “Thank you, my son, you fill me with pride.” And then they play, play, play together in that special way that fathers and sons do. This story captures that excruciating waiting that so often accompanies childhood, the exuberance that comes when the wait is finally over, and the special bond between fathers and sons.

Grandmother Winter by Phyllis Root is a magical tale about an old woman who keeps a flock of geese. All through the spring and summer, Grandmother Winter carefully gathers the goose feathers that the birds drop. In the autumn, she begins to sew a quilt and fills it with feathers. Grandmother shakes out her finished quilt and causes the snowflakes to begin to fall. Children catch the flakes on their tongues and grown-ups stack the firewood high, and the animals get ready to slumber under the mud of the pond or in their cozy dens. She climbs into bed under her new quilt—fine as a blanket of snow—to stay warm through the winter, and her geese tuck their heads under their wings to wait for spring. I adore the artwork by Beth Krommes.

Snipp, Snapp, and Snurr are three Swedish boys in a series of books by Maj Lindman. Snipp, Snapp, Snurr and the The Yellow Sled is a gentle story that my sons love. The brothers see a fancy yellow sled in a shop window and ask their mother if they can earn the money to buy the sled, which they can all ride at the same time. Mother agrees and gives them special chores to do to earn the money. The boys go about their tasks cheerfully—washing dishes, helping with the cooking, doing laundry and the shopping, and scrubbing and dusting the house—just as you want your own children to do. They even bring Mother tea, flowers, and cake on her birthday. After two weeks, Mother agrees to take them to the shop to buy the sled. When they arrive there, they see a little boy who also dearly desires to have the yellow sled, but whose family cannot afford it. The boys agree to give the yellow sled they have earned to the less fortunate boy, and they make him and his siblings so happy in doing so. Mother is pleased with their generosity and agrees to let Snipp, Snapp, and Snurr earn another yellow sled for themselves. I love the example these brothers set with their helpfulness and generosity.

This is Lucas’s most recent invention: Star Wars “origami,” aka paper dolls. He started with Yoda first on Thursday night. Then proceeded to make nine more lickety-split. It helped that we had a much-admired adult friend over for dinner that night, I think. Lucas enjoys impressing her.

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.” (I love her hair!)

Luke and the droids: I suppose we should have used a sand-colored Tatooine backdrop for this one.

C-3PO is funny. You can almost hear him lecturing R2.

Lucas is proud of these paper creations. He helped pose them for these photos.

Here’s Darth Vader fighting Luke.

The bad guys: Storm Trooper and Darth Vader. You might not be able to see it, but the Storm Trooper has a blaster in his hand.

Somehow, these two, Han Solo and Chewbacca, have the most personality—just as in the film.

Lucas has seen only the first Star Wars film (Espisode 4). Nevertheless, Star Wars mythology features heavily in this 9-almost-10-year-old’s world. I think it’s beyond awesome that he makes his own Star Wars stuff to play with, since his stingy mama doesn’t buy SW toys.

<rubs hands wickedly like evil supervillain>

Frankly, it took my children a while to remember to put their candy out for the Halloween Fairy. I didn’t mind, I know she’s busy; I have it on good authority that fairies are often overworked and running a tad behind schedule. I knew the kids would remember eventually. In the intervening eight days since Halloween, my boys have remembered that there was Halloween candy in the house and asked for a piece exactly twice.

Last night we sorted through the loot. So. Much. Candy. What’s with people these days? Whole Snickers bars? Full-size Hershey’s bars? I watched both of my kids struggle with this candy sacrifice more than ever before. Lucas had been saying he was going to give up 100 percent of his candy to get “something really good.” (Talk like that makes a mama proud, but a Halloween Fairy somewhat nervous.) When it came down to it, though, giving up the candy was harder than he expected. He had to be coaxed to put the bulk of the candy into the sacrifice bowl for her. I do not use the word sacrifice lightly here.

Asher was more than a little bewildered about the whole thing. I think he probably doesn’t remember doing this in past years, being only 4 and a half. And now, he’s got all this candy (my Asher has a sweet tooth) and we’re asking him to do what? Are we crazy? It’s a good thing he is so accustomed to following his brother’s lead in all things.

Don’t worry, there is plenty of candy left over to be doled out on special occasions or for a reward for some great behavior. I’m not above using this as an incentive to get Lucas to practice piano.

So, our tradition is to leave the Halloween candy out in a bowl on the back porch for the Halloween Fairy to come and get it. The boys went to sleep last night with this image in mind. This morning we were awakened by Asher’s jumping onto our bed with freezing fingers and shouting, “The Fairy came! The Halloween Fairy came and there’s something outside for us. Can we get it? Can we?” I repeat, freezing fingers. So we layabout parents got up and the kiddos ripped into their presents in the dawn light.

Amazing! A book about a young master of martial arts (first in a series) and a ninja bear for Lucas. A rainbow dragon and book about dragons for Asher. I have assured them that they can both enjoy the dragon book when Lucas asked about it; Lucas is keen to “study dragons.” To our delight, both toys were played with this morning. Apparently the ninja has a magic sword and the dragon can breath fire and shoot lightning from its tail.

On Columbus Day, the boys were home from school, Daddy had the day off work, and they had some time to create their own indoor fun. See how diligently they’re all working?

They designed their own board game, Warrior Quest, complete with beeswax player characters, weapons, a movement system, four regions with corresponding monsters, cards for drawing and battling monsters (even ones that caused you to skip a turn or two), a hit points and damage system to deal with battles and winning or losing. Players could level up and become more powerful through experience so that when they finally confronted the top boss, they would have a chance to defeat him.

The icy world was inhabited by a Viking with a mighty hammer and its resident monster was a polar bear. Beating the polar bear earned you a hammer for your arsenal. I think this might have been influenced by Lucas’s fourth-grade Waldorf curriculum—Norse mythology.

The volcanic world was the home of the dwarf and his fiery dragon. Asher is all about dragons.

In the middle of the board was a crossroads where you could earn gems by battling monsters. Each gem you earned incrementally reduced the damage you would take if a monster bested you. You needed one of each color.

This is the biggest, baddest big-nosed goblin boss standing atop his castle. You could only confront him after you’d traveled through three foreign lands, bested their three monsters, and earned a weapon from each—oh, and you also had to beat the goblin’s two big-nosed minions who were standing guard (one of whom seems to be down in this photo). During playtesting, we mutually decided that your region’s monster could join you in the final battle, adding his die roll to yours. Without this boost, the big boss was just too tough. Good thing you had a friendly monster on your side!

This is the desert nomad player. The desert monster was a giant scorpion. If you beat it, you earned a sword. The forest world had a bowman for a player character and a giant black spider monster. You got a bow for beating this creepy creature.

When all the game design was done, we all played Warrior Quest together. Dinner interrupted our game temporarily, and rather than move everything, we ate on the floor.

I have to say, it was totally fun. We had to keep track of our points with, like, math. We had to gain experience and weaponry and go on a great journey with perils and setbacks.

My sweet guys spent four solid hours on this project. They all stayed involved and contributing. Ian credits the book Geek Dad for inspiring him, and assorted board and role-playing games for some help with game mechanics. But it was all new to the kiddos. Apparently Asher wanted to add a whole cash economy to the game, and Lucas wanted there to be more magic with spells and stuff. Both ideas might have been cool additions, but that sort of thing would have delayed the PLAYING of the game, and frankly, you cannot spent four hours working on something when you’re 4 years old and then NOT get to play it at the end!

And Asher won!

Our Sunday began at 4:45 a.m., earlier than we ever rise. We dressed, brushed our teeth, threw our things into the car, and then carefully transferred sleeping boys into the vehicle. We drove almost two hours up highway 80, heading toward Squaw Valley, California, to the Nor Cal Tough Mudder. Seriously, check out the Tough Mudder website here. You won’t be sorry you did.

Ian had been training hard for this event since May, when he decided to join our friends NoNo and Mars in this obstacle course extraordinaire, this crazy endurance “race” to benefit the Wounded Warrior Project, which helps recently returned wounded veterans. Yes, that means our dearest Daddy and darling friends paid for the privilege to test their meddle against 24 seriously gnarly obstacles designed to challenge both body and mind.

Our arrival at Squaw valley was a joyful, exciting time. Hundreds of participants and spectators milled about reasonably, filling out death waivers and promising not to sue. All Mudders recieved registration packets and race numbers, which were written on their foreheads and bodies for easy identification. One wonders whether they expect participants heads to separate from bodies—well, better safe than sorry.

This is team Burndoggle. As you can see, spirits were high before the start. Butterflies? Oh yeah! This is some crazy stuff, folks. We in the support crew, our dear friend Dakini and me and our two children, were there to take photos and give high fives and wishes of good luck. Honestly, I’m overjoyed that I got to be present for this. What a day! What a day!

An amazing, loving, superb couple, our lovely NoNo and Mars! Lets just say they’ve been training for the Tough Mudder for something like 11 years. Yes, they take their fitness seriously.

Daddy was pumped up and jittery, and took some time before the 8:40 start to love up the boys and play with them. Oh yeah! Asher kept looking at Ian like he was more than a little insane. Frankly, I don’t blame him.

The Tough Mudder start line was at the base of a huge mountain. It seemed to say, “Get use to it, Mudders, because mountains are going to be your life for the next several hours!” Some Mudders wore funny costumes. I saw ‘fro wigs and matching tights and tutus and teams of friends all in pink scrubs. The National Anthem played before the 8:40 wave was allowed to start. There was crazy cheering and Asher cried because I was making too much noise. A lot of this day was well outside his comfort zone.

We Burndoggle team supporters knew we wouldn’t be able to witness MOST of the Tough Mudder obstacles. (Here is the course map.) But we were there to pass the day, have a great time, and hope for the opportunity to see our friends kicking ass, so we bought tickets for the cable car to take us up to 8,200 feet above sea level. (Asher didn’t much like this part either, but he bravely did as he was told and stuck very close to me. Especially when it started rocking after passing a pylon. Even my stomach did flip-flops while on this thing.)

Right after we exited this cable car “sky bus” thingy, we emerged at the top of a gorgeous mountain with a vista that stretched all the way to Lake Tahoe in the distance. But that’s not what caught our eye right away. First, we were captivated by the nearby obstacle called Everest—a quarter-pipe against which Mudders threw themselves in the hopes of  scaling it. A group of burly athletes lined the top to help other Mudders over the obstacle. Yes, Mudders, you see work in cooperation. This isn’t a race, per se. It’s more about teamwork and cooperation and facing your fears. These guys at the top were more than happy to haul others up and over the edge. But just jumping high enough to grab one of these body-building helpers’ hands was a huge feat. Most people I watched couldn’t do it. Some did. Mars did it, somehow, when I wasn’t looking. This may be my only regret of the day.

(None of these marvelous people are my people. That’s OK, though. They’re cool!)

What was truly thrilling was the fact that Mars, NoNo, and Ian were there when we arrived, waiting for their chance!  There was something of a traffic jam for the Mudders to get over this thing. I hadn’t really dared to hope that we might catch up with them at any point on the course. This was a dream come true. NoNo waited and watched others make their attempts, strategizing all the while, I think.

Ian weighed the risks carefully.

NoNo and Ian both climbed the 12-foot half-pipe to get over. Tough Mudder isn’t about doing every obstacle perfectly. It’s about making it through. This Everest was only obstacle 3, I think (after the Kiss of Mud and the Death March). We got kisses and then they were off again, running up an even higher mountain to who knows where? … something about crawling through snow, I later found out.

Dakini and the boys and I followed an alpine meadow trail a ways over to two nearby obstacles: the monkey bars and the rope climb. These were monkey bars on steroids, I tell you. About six lanes of Mudders monkeying uphill to a peak and then downhill to the end of the obstacle. Most fell into the muddy water below. Some made it all the way across. Many made it only part way. I really didn’t ever realize how many different monkey bar styles there were before this day!

This might be my favorite photos of the monkey bars because of the tights, of course, but it doesn’t convey the numbers of people crossing at once. Crazy. We waited here quite a while, hoping our friends would arrive after having passed through obstacles that we skipped by coming here. We’ll never really know if they went through this section of the course before we arrived here on foot with a 4-year-old, or after we finally gave up hoping to see them.

Right near here was the rope climb, which I later learned was something of a triumph for Ian. At this point the boys were holding up beautifully, especially since I kept feeding them.

The High Camp views were amazing. Truly spectacular. It’s the kind of place that makes you feel small and yet restores your faith in the world because of it.

Dakini took this great photo of us on top of the world among the mules ears. It was such a gorgeous day!

Squaw Valley hosted the Olympics in 1960. They have an Olympic Museum, which would be interesting to visit sometime, but we weren’t here for that.

Eventually, we rode the cable car back down the mountain and got the gear bags for our warriors. We ended up waiting under some shade at the cargo net obstacle for quite some time. This is a shot that Lucas took, which clearly shows Mudders coming down a (third?) mountain single file to get to the cargo net. We could see them way at the top as tiny specks, and we must have scanned the outlines of hundreds of descending people, looking for our three darlings, all the while shuffling our feet and hoping.

The waiting was hard. Anxious for me. But mostly boring for the boys. I jollied them along as best I could with PBJ sandwiches and pears. Lucas made a little birdie out of a pine cone and bits of wood chips. Asher made a big pile of rocks and then carefully formed the letter A with little sticks. “Mama, look what I made! Is that a A?”

After what felt like a long, nail-biting time, Ian emerged on the top of this obstacle. We had spotted our friends snaking down the mountain, and we were cheering like mad when he reached the top and looked right at us. Moments later, NoNo and Mars were there, too. They were close to the end of this ordeal and spirits were very high!

Daddy ran to us. We cheered and applauded. We got hugs and kisses. I snapped many photos of these gorgeous, dusty Mudders. (A gazillion more are on my Flickr stream.)

Don’t they look wonderful? But alas, even though they had scaled the Berlin Walls, carried logs, swam under walls, jumped off high planks, and braved the Chernobyl Jacuzzi already, they weren’t done yet. Two or three other obstacles still remained ….

Like this balance-beam obstacle called Twinkle Toes. Again, there were many lanes that Mudders could cross. Trouble was, the boards kept wobbling and many people fell into icy-cold water. I’m told the day was punctuated by frequent encounters with icy-cold water.

They approached the last obstacle, Electroshock Therapy—a field of electrically charged wires ready to zap Mudders with 10,000 volts as they pass—at a walk. This is one that messes with your mind, I think.

And then they were done. Their reward? A free beer and some food, a T-shirt, and this nifty orange headband.

Ian was elated, but not quite in his right mind at the finish. Dizzy? Addled? Relieved? Definitely happy!

Team Burndoggle’s time was something like 5 hours and 20 to 40 minutes. I don’t know exactly. I was too excited and busy congratulating them and taking photos to check the time. Whatever. They did it! And then much celebration ensued. The grins were worth a million bucks. There was pizza and more beer.

And our Tough Mudders posed for pics in the most delightful ways.

And my little, impressionable boys got to see Daddy do something amazing and clearly worthwhile, something he worked hella hard for—which is why I dragged them two hours into the Sierras at the crack of dawn and then up and down mountaintops after all.

Congratulations, NoNo and Mars! You rock!

Congratulations, Ian, my love. You are heroic and mighty! I’m so proud of you.

To all my loves who are packing up and heading to that big, dusty dinner plate in Nevada for Burning Man,

Be well and safe. Revel. Unhook from your cares. Bounce around, shake your body. Cry a little. Use sunblock. Question everything. Rest and HYDRATE. Celebrate; it is YOUR TIME. Make love. Experience a whole solar day, dawn to dusk. Meet new friends. Be funny; be also kind. Ruminate. Shout really loud. Take naps. Eat some. Waltz in your stompy black boots. Pedal your bike as fast as you can. Leave no trace. Climb something big. Set something on fire. Take care of people. Stay up all night. Feel connected and FREE. Say yes.

Yes, I’m feeling sad I can’t be with you. Yes, this is a corny, romantic sendoff. Yes.

I’ve been doing quite a bit of writing and crafting for Little Acorn Learning these last few months, which has taken me away from blogging some. (Or maybe that was the nine weeks and counting of summer vacation.) Still, it’s been a fun challenge to be creative, learn new skills, and write tutorials and know someone might read it, might even try an activity inspired by my creation. I hope that’s happening somewhere …

I’ve gathered herbs, felted, sewed, made soap, folded and cut paper designs, made banners and wreaths for decorating a home or classroom for the changing seasons. I’m channeling my best Waldorf mama self for this and I hope I am being a good role model for my kids in the process. I’ve written poetry and even a song—like with music! These things are stretching me and fulfilling me in some exciting new ways. I never dreamed I could write a song, even one so simple as I wrote for May Day. (I’ll tell ya, that software was challenging!) I’ve tackled thorny themes such as solitude, sacrifice, optimism, and letting go. In my career as a magazine writer, I was rarely asked for my own opinion on anything; rather the focus was on finding an expert to voice their opinion and then writing it up all spiffy. This work is different and difficult and feels grand.

(These photos are ones that didn’t make the cut for my recent articles.)

The August Enrichment Guide can be purchased here. There’s tons of great stuff for families and homeschoolers, and I’m honored to be featured alongside some really amazing, creative contributors. If you buy one, please let me know what you think of my work.

What I haven’t managed to do much this summer is sew for my kiddos. My mother has made four or five pairs of shorts and pants for my boys during her summer break. I managed to sew only one pair of shorts for Lucas, but I did them all myself (with her advice and supervision). They have dragons. They even have pockets, which I’ve never done before. And he wears them. Win!

I have another pair cut out and ready to sew. I am hoping to work on those a bit this coming week. Fortunately here in California, we have a very long shorts season. Maybe I’ll even manage to finish those skirts I started for myself last summer. I hope so.

Oh, and there’s the next round of crafting and writing articles for September. 

Although I don’t think he has ever seen one, I can’t help but think of this as Asher’s iPad. He calls it his “video game board,” chooses games, and pushes buttons while wearing a serious game face.

Asher has copied Lucas in this practice of making up his own “video games” out of paper. Lucas recently made paper DS-style handheld game devices for both himself and Asher. They hold these and push buttons and make wicked-cool sound effects. Both are masters at leveling up in these games.

Some might say my kiddos are deprived since they don’t have real video games of any sort. I say they are creative.

In a way, it was kind of his night. Independence Day celebration + 9-year-old boy + adults with fireworks money = Opportunity!

Because you have to test,

have to experience things with all of your senses,

as close as you dare.

You need to observe others displaying both prudence

and risk—to figure out why and when and how.

Sometimes you have to feel danger in your own hands

to learn exactly what makes it dangerous,

learn to harness and create with it,

learn to celebrate it, and ultimately to transmute it into experience and beauty.