People who have fond memories of childhood are lying, or they just didn't grow up...

This is a familiar mirage, of happy childhood, grinning mates and pig-tailed girls who didn't care a whit for your antics. Childhood is terror, a heart of darkness novella aka conrad. yeah, in between phases of sheer terror, there are some pristine moments of bliss. like slipping a love note in between the covers of a notebook, hoping she would not tell the teacher (and if she did not, assuming she loved you too), or defying a parent knowing fully well that you may not be able to sit on your backside for months, or saving up the pies to buy that lolly after school. but....you can do these things, not twice, but when you do it that once...i tell you, it's sheer poetry! ask calvin...