Log fires

I have a fireplace in my lounge. It's a pretty fireplace with tiled inserts. Kieron would stare at the flames on the rare occasions I lit the fire and see pictures in them. He would laugh at the cats who were mesmerised by the flames dancing up the chimney and giggle if they got a whisker through the fireguard and got singed. He liked sitting on the floor in front of the fire but would leap up suddenly if a stray ember hit the guard and shriek with pretend fear.
A few years ago a friend gave me some granules to throw on the coals to make blue fire like in Harry Potter and Kieron was delighted at the magic in the firelight. I tried to explain the chemical side of how to make blue fire but gave up in the face of his childish wisdom. After all, he's seen the films. He knows it takes a wand and magic.
As he got older he was allowed to put logs on the fire and and prod it with the poker, turning to ask me if he was doing it right. He carried in fresh logs for me and knew where I hid the matches out of his reach.
Kieron discussed the conundrum of how Santa got down the chimney and puzzled over how Santa managed in houses without chimneys. It had to be magic again. He delighted in putting out a mince pie and glass of milk for Santa and a carrot for Rudolph. Even as he outgrew this childlike fantasy, we still did it, but who was humouring who?
Kieron, the little boy who believed in magic because for him life was magical and he brought magic into our lives.