Xmas Failure

When I was in the 7^th grade, my mother gave me some money, some of dad’s Xmas money that he received from his postal patrons. She told me to go downtown and buy Christmas presents for my three little brothers. (My sister was not born yet.)
I proudly showed the presents to my mother. “And this one is for Ricky. (He was in the 4^th grade) He likes to play with fire,” I said, “and he likes to draw, so I know he’ll like this.”

She sighed heavily as she held the wood burning kit. “That is why you can’t give it him,” she said. “He won’t stop at burning designs on the wood in this kit. You know that he will burn the house down when he tries to burn a picture on the wall, or on the furniture, or on a piece of paper.”

My shoulders sagged. I hadn’t thought about that when I bought the gift for him. "Remember, last week, how he almost caught the house on fire when he ran after the fire truck that came down the street and he forgot to turn off the stove?"
"Yeah!" I said. "You were at the store and our neighbor came over when he saw the smoke."
"You can buy him something else that he can't burn the house down with."