When I was a wee boy, I had uncontainable energy and need to be moving. This symptom of ADHD never ceased, including the time my dad had taken me to his work office so he could make sure his files would be safe before our family went on vacation. My attention was not on my dad’s files at all, as one would expect of a six year old. I was focused on my dad’s rolling, cushioned, and spinning chair. I was more than focused by this chair, I was enticed. In my little six year old mind, I had to jump on this chair, I didn’t have a choice. It is a well-known rule to young children, that if there is a rolling, cushioned, spinning chair, you have to spin. So, that’s what I did, I spun. A six year old reached terminal velocity that day with the help of his also little brother. But this record promptly switched to a vault record as I soon went flying across the room. I must’ve been in the air for minutes until I speedily barreled into the corner of my dad’s conference desk. I was physically stuck on the desk for a few moments before falling off and causing further trauma to my head by banging it in a recycling bin. At this point in time I started teleporting between settings, ending up in beds I didn’t remember crawling into, or rooms I didn’t walk into. Eventually, I ended up in front of a screening of Batman: The Animated Series. I didn’t know how I had gotten there, but I just knew I didn’t want to leave. Sadly, I was put to sleep as the intro was ending, I soon woke up with 23 stitches in my small nose. I didn’t know 23 stitches could fit onto a nose, let alone a six year old’s nose, but I didn’t care. All I cared about was how cool I would look going back to Kindergarten.

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