With it's bright red jacket alerting boys to dangers lurking within is thick manila pages, along with old fashioned turn of the century (that is the turn of two centuries ago) text, what could be more alluring? Say hello to a phenomenon sweeping the universe of our  boys, whose sheltered lives with adults and clipboards present at most of their after-school play hardly engages them in the best techniques of building a treehouse, making paper boats, and making an awesome go cart.

Welcome to the world of Brit brothers Gonn and Hal Iggulden who as grown boys tramped back out into the woods, fields, and garage to capture the lost art of knots, pinhole projectors, creating your own fishing rod, and spotting cloud formations.

And sure enough, my 12-year old son Brooks can be found at random times of the day absorbing now arcane information on how to:  craft your own arrow, hunt and skin a rabbit, make the greatest paper airplane, and learn about the seven wonders of the ancient world. Replete, of course, with the lushly illustrated hanging gardens of Babylon. And this is a boy who has declared that he hates to read for pleasure! His fascination has peeked even his generally dismissive 14-year old sister, who picked up the book and absorbed the section on secret inks while glancing over to the area of her art supplies.

And as I watch them peruse the pages containing more mystery and magic than Harry Potter, and I become both bemused and suddenly contemplative. My brother and I tried endlessly on hot summer afternoons on the pavement to start fires with a magnifying glass. And the thought of my son playing with fire, handling a swiss army knife, or taking a go-cart to the sideway (let alone the SUV-laden death trap of a street) sends full out shudders through my 21st century parental soul. Imagine the horrific possibilities, the calls from the neighbors, and emergency room visits.

And then I simply laugh at how in the process of protecting and nurturing these precious kids of ours, we have deprived them of some of the most memorable and downright given parts of our own childhoods. And so I leave the Dangerous Book for Boys with its red cover flashing right out on the family room coffee table, with some stacks of paper,  a compass, and yes, a magnifying glass.

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