As soon as I was out from under my parent's radar, I went to work devising a plan. I'm not sure where Mom and Dad were; probably watching TV or something.
Our kitchen chair was the ideal height for an eight-year-old to stand on, which gave me the perfect opportunity to reach the three bags of mixed nuts in the pantry.
After climbing up on the chair, I quietly picked up the bags, climbed down, then moved the chair back under the table to erase all traces of evidence.
Prior to all of this, I spread newspapers under the juniper bushes in our back yard, anchored by four strategically placed rocks so the papers wouldn't blow away. Of course I did this when no one was looking.
The next step was to go outside, open the three bags of nuts, and spread them over the weighted newspapers.
My plan was to catch a squirrel. I wanted a cute, furry, squirrel to keep me company in my room. It would be just the squirrel and me. Friends forever.
It was tough getting to sleep that night, because I was really excited about my new, secret squirrel venture.
When I looked outside the next morning, every single nut was gone. The newspapers were still intact held down by the rocks, but no nuts and, even worse, no squirrel. Boy, was I ever disappointed.
When my parents went to open a bag of nuts for a snack, they discovered all three bags were missing. I was questioned and denied everything. It was the newspapers that did me in.
When my dad went out to mow the lawn, he saw the newspapers...and the rocks...and put two and two together. I spent a lot of time in my room that day...alone...with no squirrels or anything.
