An irritated theater audience gives me to poor performers on stage, while a friendly Halloween spook shouts me to make an unsuspecting friend leap into the air. What am I?

I am hot and round and you see me in the day, but I never stand still. What am I?

How does a cheerful Dubliner greet a sudden, colorful storm arch in the sky?

I am an insect that loves to study mathematics, yet teachers always try to swat me away. What am I?

Born on the first and deceased on the last, my whole life is finished before winter has passed. I am the shortest-lived holiday celebrated by name, spanning precisely twenty-four hours of fame. What day am I?

I can leap over puddles without legs, bounce back without rubber, and feed a forest stream without a spoon, all while ushering birds back from their winter homes. What am I?

I am tossed into the air to celebrate a beginning, but my flying days end the moment I touch the ground. What am I?