The cousins from Kansas were visiting (one of only two visits to Minnesota I remember them making). As part of the adventure that week, my grandpa took us for a boat ride on Loon Lake. Look at us all sitting ramrod straight and still. Grandpa would have allowed nothing less—nor would we have dared.

But this is a story about the little balcony on the farm. It was generally off limits, and we knew it. But it beckoned me. There was a certain romance about it.

The adults were gone, and it was just cousin Charlene, my sister, and me. The idea, again, was mine.

Mom always had Nestle's Quik in the cupboard, probably because Dale Evans (Queen of the West) and Roy Rogers (King of the Cowboys) sang about it and highly recommended it for all its healthy ingredients. I’d often read a recipe on the back of the container for something called ice cream sodas. Ice cream, chocolate, and “sparkling water.” Well, we had ice cream and chocolate, and sparkling water came out of the faucet—didn’t it?

If we were going to have ice cream sodas, we should do it in style—on that little balcony.

So I made the sodas, which weren’t all that great since the “sparkling water” from the faucet didn’t fizz, and carried them on a tray up the stairs and out on to the balcony.

The party was fun until someone slipped on the steps when bringing everything back to the kitchen. Suddenly the majority of Mom’s glasses no longer existed (we must have prepared for imaginary guests, because more than three glasses were smashed).

A conspiracy of silence was agreed upon by the parties involved, and all seemed to be well—until dinner and time to set the table. Everyone was perplexed and began to search for the missing glasses. Ultimately Charlene squealed.

She’s the only one who did not get a spanking.

Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child, but the rod of discipline will drive it far from him. Proverbs 22:15