Mischief Unmanaged

With my old and often daydreaming grandmom babysitting us, getting into trouble wasn't that difficult a task. While others saw the bars of the windows as... bars of windows, for me, they were opportunity. The 6-year-old me, with no fear in her heart and mind devoid of logic, would seep through the railings everyday. 

I knew showing this to my parents meant trouble and successful hid it from every adult I encountered. It was not until one day, when I was showing off my "hanging skills" to my cousin did I hear a loud shriek. I knew danger at the sight of my aunt glaring at me - partially with shock, and not-so-partially with anger. 

Soon, the room was filled with all those who didn't find my skills amusing (adults), goggling at the sight of a child hanging through the railings of a room, high above the ground. Yells, tears, fear, and anger filled the room and among all this chaos, I knew that staying outside, at the edge of the window was safer. Safer than getting in to receive the blows I saw coming from a mile away. With this sensible thought in mind, I stayed put.

Before I knew it, the room got quiet at the shushing sound of my dad. The sight of a huge man, often perceived as scary, clearing the room meant only one thing. Trouble. The silence filled the room as quickly as it came. He came closer, assured me nobody would hit me and that coming in made more sense than dangling out. His softened bold voice let my fear fade away and I came in as easily as I went out. He flung his arms around me and not a word was spoken about this again that afternoon. Everything went back to normal - the food was cooked in the kitchen, my dad was on a call a man, and poor grandmother returned to her daydreaming. 

The next time I went into the room after lunch, the man on the call was home, fitting new railings, sealing my fate and barring me from doing this ever again.