When you both were small, shorter than me, and still convinced that I had magic powers, you did many naughty little boy things because, well, because you were naughty little boys. Like the time you painted your face with red lipstick, Architect, and I about had a heart attack because I thought you were bleeding. Or when you put on a superman cape and jumped off the top of the bookcase trying to fly. And you, Dirtbike! I remember the day you learned how to use scissors. You shredded my pajama legs into strips, cutting just as high as you could reach as they hung on the hook by my closet door.
You still occasionally do really odd things that can only be attributed to an overabundance of testosterone that squashes the common sense section of your collection of brain cells. Like putting cans of soda into the deep freeze to see if they will explode. (Yes, they will.)
I really didn’t mind cleaning the sticky goo from inside the freezer this morning, because it was time to defrost the thing anyway. It was the little surprise I found under the bags of peas and lima beans that set my mind spinning.