“I’m bored,” my friend said on a Saturday. “I am too,” I said in response, “What do you think we should do?” “I literally have no idea, let's think about it,” my friend said. After walking around the cul-de-sac for a little bit, we still could not think of anything to do. We looked over at the grass pile in the center of the cul-de-sac, and we knew what we wanted to do. “What if we just started digging in that center,” my friend said. “I mean, that sounds like it could be fun, but how will we do it?” I said. “We could just use our hands or some little tools,” and we went on to do just that. 

After digging for about an hour, we probably dug about 3 inches deep and were tired. “This is cool, look at this weird orange stuff,” my friend said as he pointed at what was probably clay, “I think this is iron ore.” “Iron is orange?” I said with confusion. “I don’t know, maybe we should ask somebody,” and we went to ask a neighbor. We asked and they told us that it was probably clay, and we left. We kept digging that day and continued for about 2 other days. We liked digging the hole and probably dug down around 12 inches or so, and what we were doing, but then one day we got a message.

My friend and I hung out and went to a neighbor’s house to get candy, as we did usually every day. When we got there, she told us something, “I heard that the owner is trying to stop whoever is digging that hole.” We knew that she was talking about the owner of the cul-de-sac/neighborhood who needed us to stop digging the hole. After we heard what she said, we quickly went and filled the hole up. Nobody really ever saw us dig and fill the hole, so we were not blamed for what happened. When we were done, we went on to do something else like play video games or play in my background forest. To two nine-year-olds, being blamed by an owner sounded like it would be terrible, but we were bored, curious, young, and stupid.