When I was 11 years old, my parents moved to Utah for 3 years, which really did a number on my friend quotient.
This is one example of what happens when a tween has too much time on his hands. For more stories, go here, here, here, here, here, here or here.
Having no friends during the "tween" years can be risky. It means there is no one around to tell you to stop wearing a cape or to put the LEGOs into storage.
The term "late bloomer" doesn't even begin to cover it, and I can only hope that the photographic and video evidence of this time period is at a minimum.
One example is my miniature replica of the U.S.S. Enterprise from Star Trek. I got it for Christmas, and this sucker is about 1 1/2 feet long and has buttons on it to make photon and warp speed sounds.
Yeah, pretty much awesome.
Anyway, despite what is socially appropriate for a kid my age, I spent months flying that thing around my house, pretending to shoot all the figurines and books lying around on the shelves.
The best thing that could have happened would have been for someone to snap it in half. However, I recently went through some personal history boxes and discovered my old, trusty U.S.S. Enterprise.
Is it bad that I had the distinct urge to pull it out and start flying it around again?
2 comments:
Adam would be right there beside you if you decided to take it "for a spin" again.
So Steve and I both decided to lower our standards in order to find some common ground and be able to watch a show together. Hello Jean Luc Picard.
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