Morris was king of the playground. He was fastest on the monkey bars, fastest on the slide, flew highest on the swing, see sawed so hard no one wanted to be his partner. No one could catch him at tag. He was bigger, quicker, faster and stronger.
I preferred to stay in the sandbox building castles. Greta kept urging me to show some guts and challenge Morris. I chose sands in my shorts over being humiliated in front of the others.
One day they trucked in new equipment--a giant maze, which replaced the boring merry go round. Kids circled it warily, none chancing to test it. Finally, Morris pounded his chest and announced he would defeat the beast. He would blast through it and get to the exit before you could blink.
He strode through the entrance.
Five minutes later, he was going in circles, becoming more frantic. Soon after, he was sobbing in frustration.
I rose from the sandbox, shook myself off and walked to the entrance. I needed to prove myself to myself.
I took several wrong turns, but kept my wits. Eventually I deciphered the pattern and rescued a Morris. He was red faced with embarrassment.
Applause, shoulder pats, a kiss on the cheek from Greta.
I went back to the sandbox, head high. Except another kid had taken my place. I knew it was time to move on to new playground challenges.
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