I had a friend who wanted gunpowder when he was around 12.
He industriously sat on his bed and cut paper caps (do they still make them?) in half with a scissors and collected the results on a pile on the sheet. The pile because rather large. Unfortunately, something happened and the pile went up with a kind of whooosh noise.
More unfortunately, either the sound or the smoke or maybe his yelp of surprise attracted his mother. She opened the door, and there he was sitting on the sheet with a big black spot and a small mushroom cloud billowing up to the ceiling.
As you might expect, she exclaimed, "WHAT HAPPENED?"
And as you might further expect he responded, "Nothing."
Ah. To be 12 again.