These toys, along with the monthly new code in Boys' Life magazine, awoke the inner secret agent in me. I wanted to be a spy when I grew up, and practice make perfect. So I would sneak up and down the halls of where ever I was, especially around the Church building when the grownups were having meetings. At this age, my mother still bought all my clothes, and would make very convincing suggestions about what I should where to Church. One piece of clothing I particularly loathed was a pair of dirt brown corduroy pants. The reason I hated these pants so much was the fact that they made a sound while I walked. Every step brought a little friction noise that I was certain gave me away while I was sneaking around in dark hallways. This lead to one of my first statements of independence, when I declared to my mother, "I don't want to wear these pants anymore, because spies don't wear corduroy!"
3 comments:
They were not dirt brown they were RUST!!
MOMMA
Don't talk back to your mother! Put your pants on and sit still. There is no running around the church building while people are meeting.
That is awesome!
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