Burn baby burn

I'm plotzing. It's Lag Ba'omer, the Jewish holiday that is celebrated in Israel mainly by lighting huge bonfires, singing, and food (is there a Jewish holiday without food? No). So I'm here, running between one son's 4th grade class bonfire and another son's 6th grade class bonfire, both within 20 meters of each other, among about 20 more fires all in an area the size of a baseball field.

Although the holiday itself has lost most of its religious significance for these kids, it is a pyromaniac's dream come true and I can't for the life of me understand how parents stand and sit around so calmly eating hot dogs in pita while hundreds of children play with fire. Maybe they're used to it because they grew up with this holiday, maybe they just don't see it as dangerous as I do (hellooo???)

So while other parents have gone home, leaving their little firestarters to frollick around the smoldering wooden planks, I am waiting until 11:00pm, the magical hour the children were promised they could stay awake 'til (don't know which fool parent decided that, but the kids all immediately claimed it), because I am worried. Yes, I am an overprotective mother and no, I don't think 10 year-olds should be left to their own devices when it comes to fire. Wish I wasn't the minority in this case.

Update: Thank G-d we're all home safe (and eau d'hickory-smoke has been mostly washed out of my hair). It's a nice holiday and all, but I could do without the bonfire part. Let's just eat.