This is a confession of my own bad childhood behavior... one summer day, my cousin and I were playing in my back yard, as our parents chatted nearby. We started to throw flowers and sticks and small rocks into what we were imagining was a wishing well. We were having fun coming up with unusual wishes and finding things to toss into the darkness... until I heard my father scream, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Turns out our wishing well was the gas tank to our snowmobile... which never ran again. Perhaps the best punishment was seeing the thing sitting in our back shed as a teenager, and wishing I hadn't touched daddy's things.