Eight-year-olds want things they don't need. I wanted a Rock Tumbler. It was the toy's box which won me over -- the pictures of overly-amused children, high on the rush of creating semi-precious gemstones out of grey, dirty rocks.
Imagine the possibilities, I thought in my little head. We had electricity. And my backyard certainly was rife with rocks.
At the store, I begged my parents to buy me the tumbler. They told me that there was already one in my closet at home.
"We'll go home and find it," my dad said while smiling at my mom.
Needless to say, I never found it.
To this day, they think that was a great joke. A couple months ago, they sent me this doctored photo via email.
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