Ah, the chemical reaction volcano. It is not only a childhood rite of passage. It is a metaphor for childhood itself.
Mom and Dad are given a due date. They day dream about the volcano; plan how theirs will be the best. The most original. The most realistic or the most interpretive. The most perfectly put-together.
They scramble to prepare. They make a huge mess. There is so much trial and error involved in this process that, on sitcoms, appears so easy.
Volcanos need so much reinforcement. Parents that don’t incorporate lots of support during the construction process sometimes find that theirs falls apart on the bus when things get bumpy – that it crumbles and cracks every time some rude kid pokes it.
There is lots of waiting involved. Lots of anticipation. How will this thing actually turn out when put to the test? You’ve only got one shot at it.
There is a reaction, an overreaction, and then just when things are flowing along as you’d dreamed they would, the whole thing is over.
These are our volcanos. Aren’t they beautiful?