Why do I still I wonder why my son throws pillows at the ceiling fan?

This video of Bart creating a shock wave with megaphones while on a class trip sums up my curiosity as a child. 

When I wonder why my son throws pillows at the ceiling fan, it’s because he is following in his father’s footsteps. He’s spirited and curious like I was when I was a kid. 

I can’t say I am thrilled about this although the first rocket was sent to the moon because of people like Jules Verne who dreamed about such an accomplishment.

Over the years I have also become more cautious and less tolerant of pain. 

I felt like I couldn’t help myself, almost always to my own detriment, except for that time I put gum in my brother’s hair. 

This is a short list of some of the things I’ve done as a kid and as a result hurt myself: 

1. Placed my thumb on a red hot car cigarette lighter in my dads truck. I had to peel my thumb off of it. I saw that it was bright orange but I wanted to know how hot it really was. At least 451 degrees because it ignites paper. 

2. While my grandma was watching me I poked a hole in the top of a can of spray paint can that I stole from my dad’s workshop. The can sprayed metallic paint in my face and I thought I would be blind for the rest of my life.

3. While working on a school project with a classmate, I squirted hot glue on my fingers to see “how hot it really was”. There were blisters on top of blisters on top of blisters.

4. Several times and in many ways I’ve had nails pierce my shoe and go into my foot. I’ve had more than a few tetanus shots.  

5. At least 3 scars I still have on my body today are from self inflicted wood whitting projects. My mom is still waiting for that wooden pheasant I told her I’d make her when I was 12. 

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