I grew up, for the first seven years of my life, in a large white house with a big lawn and massive backyard. My house was in East Lansing, MI mere blocks from the campus of Michigan State. The neighborhood was perfect. It had nice sidewalks, neatly laid-out blocks, and families with children peppered the area.

The block I lived on was my “turf” and my good colleague, Patrick, and I were sworn protectors of it. We would customize our big-wheels by removing the seat and then scooter around the block as we surveyed our glorious territory.

During one meeting arranged by our maternal secretaries we were musing in the front yard. My mother gave us strict instructions to stay within view of the house as she went in to fetch us some refreshments; shortly there after I developed a plan.

My plan called for adventure, exploration, and a sliding moral measure. We headed off down the street bound for adventure. For the first block we were within the sight of the house and within our set limitation, but when we reached the next block my wise associate questioned our course.

“Didn’t you mom say to say within view of the house?” he asked.

I told him that my mom had said that very statement, “she never said what house we are to be in sight of, however,” I added. With this new provision every house we passed became “the house” we were in sight of and our journey continued unhindered.

Later that day the police found us amongst some shrubbery several blocks from home. We were given a firm talking to by our parents and I, being the evil mastermind behind this plot, was dealt with strictly.