For as long as our species has been rooted firmly with his feet on the ground, man has wondered over the oceans and the skies. Airplanes brought us flight and the ability to overcome gravity. Not that dissimilarly, hobby rocket launches send kids to the skies, and teaches them about physics.

Plus, they could blame the lingering pungent odor of sulphur on each other accompanied with the mandatory, "ewwwww!"

Both sons were to construct a rocket for launch for their merit badge. Sure, we could merely watch two teenagers launch their rockets. Better yet, we could be a whole family of "astronuts" (as my 5 year old calls them), counting down those final numbers and clapping with impressive loudness as rockets zoom forth into the skies over sunny Colorado in feats of daring never before seen from a package purchased at Hobby Lobby for a scant few dollars.

It would be a family moment in time to rival any family snapshot. This could be the stuff of Christmas letters. Of photographs! Of tales that grow taller over the years, as my son steps out of the vehicle itself and onto a distant planet, waving hello and endorsing breakfast food items.

And all that for $6.

We set to work immediately, assembling the rockets, dangling bits of NASA excitement from every available hanging light, hook or surface throughout the main floor. During the course of that week, the dining room was a bouquet of glue and paint, and the kitchen counter was a spread of rocket launchers, and launching instructions.

Finally, on a sunny Colorado day which briskly set our enterprising hearts yearning to touch those cloudy puffs that floated breezily by, we set out to send up our hard work and make those special memories. We unloaded our crew at the park, set up the launch pads for what seemed to take an incredibly long time, and we built up the excitement to the point where kids were at a crescendo.

We counted down from "5", dubbed the newly-mounted vehicle of excitement and wonder "The Shark" and pressed the launch key to set the first rocket into orbit. With grace, the sleek silver and blue creature displayed an amazing amount of rocket boost, sailed over the nearby school and disappeared. Good bye, Charlie Tuna.

Son number one sauntered up to the launch pad, chuckling about the disasters which preceded the anticipation of his rocket, which was going to put theirs to shame. Shame being the operative term, as the rocket flew into the air 20 feet, then commenced to spiraling across the sky in patterns seen only before by someone trapped in a dryer on fluff cycle during a college hazing. It finally barely cleared anything breakable on the nearby school and crashed audibly on the roof. People finally stood back up again after covering their heads and cowering on the ground.

The awe-struck boy yelled, "NEAT!"

The other son's rocket cleared three neighborhoods, flew across the surface of the sun, and was probably seen on radar stretching farther west than Boulder's property tax line. Where it went is about as a great a mystery as what happened to the last piece of chocolate I left in the cupboard, though we named it the Space Shuttle Columbia, not so much for its demise, as the fact we think it landed somewhere on that street.

Finally, the five year old astronaut placed the little rocket she'd coddled in her proud hands onto the launching pad. It flew 6 feet into the air and hit the ground with a thud. Then the parachute deployed. The 5 year old was just happy because we were able to find it again and because the dog, despite previous attempts, wasn't able to eat it.

We were just glad to have a chute deploy.

In between the launches, with rockets zooming this way and that, disappearing into the troposphere, we'd hear punctuated yells of, "Was that worth the six bucks?" or "... more of a four-fifty."

It was only later that evening we discovered that in order to have fulfilled the requirement for the merit badge, we were supposed to have successfully launched, recovered and then launched those rockets again.

Thankfully, somewhere in Longmont this morning, on a chilly rooftop, there's a school custodian hunting down the Shark and the Whizzer while we drive to Hobby Lobby for more rocket engines and wadding paper.

Like those little aircraft, time whisks by all too quickly, and it disperses the memories like model rocket wadding paper. Kids grow, they launch, and you'll be there just as you always have, hoping for parachute deployment.

For now, you remember the laughter, the trudging through snow, and the kids rolling around in the back seat of the minivan laughing and reliving each crash and zoom of the entire event.

And even when you're on the ground with your hands covering your head and your oldest kid is yelling, "NEAT!" you'll know it was well worth that six bucks, plus tax, on an icy January afternoon somewhere in Longmont, Colorado.

That's worth every penny.