I did some dumb shit when I was 10, and I still haven't outgrown playing with fire. I knew that my parents couldn't be anywhere, and when they weren't where I was, there was a good chance that I would be out in the back yard tossing fireworks into groups of army men, making paper sculptures and throwing flaming paper airplanes at them, or writing words in lighter fluid and watching my work go up in flames.
I understood that fire could cause serious damage, and I kept a gallon of water and a fire extinguisher nearby so I could stop something before I burned down the house like the woman across the street did when she was a kid. On the other hand, my understanding was that fire + fire extinguisher = safe, not even close to a full comprehension of what I could do by playing with fire in an area with a few trees.* I'm lucky I didn't start a serious fire.
* - heavy sarcasm. this is my neighborhood.
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