One time, as a child, I did something wrong. Probably broke something. It was in San Ramon. At the time, I was an avid lego artist. You could say the legos and I had a special relationship. Well, dad came home from work, and I knew I was in trouble. Sitting on my bed, waiting for my punishment, it felt like it took him ten years to walk down the hallway to my room.
As he rounded the corner into my room, i tried to look as pathetic as possible. Considering it was the early 90's, and hammer pants were fashionable, it wasn't too hard.
"Your mother is not happy with you."
Me, with my head buried and feigning despair, "I know."
"I think you need to lose a toy for a week" he continued. (This was the closest I EVER got to being grounded) "What is your faorite toy? I am going to have to take it".
What follows was, as I see it, is pure genius. I never played with brio trains. They were not portable, nor were they cool looking like hot wheels. They were in my mind, a sunday toy. Kind of dry, but still technically entertainment. "Well dad, I sure love my brio set. Please don't take it away."
"Where do you keep it?" he asks.
In my head I say something like; I dunno... under the bed covered in the dust of forgetfulness... But I choke out "In the plastic box under my bed?"
Sure enough, there they are, and he takes them. To be totally honest, I do not know when, if ever, they came back to my room. All I knew is that I duped mom AND dad, all while keeping legos. Two points for Jacob.
