When I was young, I was an expert at digging tunnels in the snow. One winter, I dug a tunnel that was over nine feet long. I’d spend hours hiding within it. My father insisted it was far too dangerous. He promptly grabbed a snow shovel and blocked the entrance. I had to wait until the spring thaw to escape. My mother, drying me off with a towel, wondered where I had been for the past five months. My father, reading the paper, mumbled something about learning an important lesson. My interest in snow tunnels became a thing of the past. Another particular brand of genius thwarted by misunderstanding – and a snow shovel.





“Snow Tunnel” by kamome is licensed under CC BY-NC 2.0

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