Now at the age of 7 I must admit that I had the reputation of a genius. Well, maybe a “conniving” genius or a “little rascal” as my Grandma always said. I was well renown for my clever and innovative ways of changing household tasks into games, such as the famous “Take Out the Trash Catapult” or my personal favorite, taking a bath with my dog to save water. Add an unruly mop of blonde hair and mischievous smile, and my innocent child look was kicked out the door. On top of that, my best bud in the whole world, Grant, happened to be my collaborator/partner in crime, was just as wily. We always had brilliant ideas, or “plans of mass destruction” as my mother often described them, especially when playing games. But, one idea in particular, derived from our natural competitive spirits and desire for bragging rights would get us into the stupidest place any 6 & 7 year olds could think of, the refrigerator. Looking back, it seemed like the perfect idea, infallible to say the least. I can still see it in my head as if it were a scene from a movie…

Footsteps approached in a soft patter like rain on the roof. They moved swift and deliberate, like a hunter stalking his prey. The padding of our seekers grew louder, signifying that they’d picked up our trail. You could smell the sharp tension, feel it tingle on your skin, its bitter taste in your mouth. They came for one thing and one thing only, Grant and I. We were the only survivors of this momentous game, and we had no intentions of losing. If there was one thing that really set of the creative, gung ho juices in our minds, it was the Hunt, or as it’s commonly known, Hide-N-Go-Seek. We had shaken them off through our wily distractions and the candies we placed strategically to buy us some time. Though, like any artifice, we could only hold out for so long. Our last maneuver to avoid the main pack of seekers left us stranded in the kitchen. Thinking like the true Hunt champs that we were, we used our telepathy and sign language based on funny facial expressions and worked out the plan that we would try to fit in the refrigerator. Being the cunning hider that I am, I disguised the noise of us opening the fridge door by slamming a cupboard door. As we clambered up into the massive mounted refrigerator, our pursuers approached with new gusto. They were rapidly closing in, like they could detect the very life pulsing through our veins. As the Grant grabbed the inner shelf and pulled the door closed with a slight hiss, the pack rounded the corner, ready for blood.