When Ma's face brigthened and heart gripped. At my pranks!

Sitting with mother in the kitchen during the winters was a treat in itself, not only for the warmth of the fireplace, but because it meant that I could play pranks on her. I had this nasty habit of adjusting the firewood to get a stronger blaze and this would invite immediate retribution from mother. “Don’t play with fire,” she would warn me.
I never heeded her. Often I would pretend that I had got my fingers burnt and would shriek in pain. This would bring her rushing to my side and I would then burst into loud laughter. Every time I played this trick, mother would rush to my side in alarm. Being her only son, she was taking no chances. Or I would play with the smouldering embers. The glowing patterns in the dark appeared to be as delightful as fireworks. Mother would of course forbid me to do this but I would disconcert her by saying, “But it brightens up your face, Ma!” This would cause her to smile, despite her irritation.