They came into my man-cave, made a heck of a racket and fiddled with everything; just generally acted like kids. Soon enough, the boy discovered my stash, and yelled, "Can I have one?" My big blabber mouth started working before my brain did and I told him to pick one. I actually thought he would pick an egg plane (kids like those), I may have even prayed.
No. His little head kept tilting back until he was looking up to the top of the closet, and to my disbelief he chose my favorite Catalina V. I could not retreat and save face, so I had to bring it down for surrender.
Just because he got one, his sister had to pick one too. As stricken with anxiety as I was, I had to let her choose. She walked out packing my Tamiya P-47, and a tube of alphiletic glue.
Before they could make it home, I phoned up mom, told her the story and asked if she could help them out with the building. Then they could come back, and I would help with the paint. The deal was done.
There is a moral to this story. I was not sad that they chose a couple of my favorite stash, I was surprised! Caught off guard!
Where do you draw the line in helping a child to become a potential aircraft modeler? Does it really matter what you have to give?
I hope they don't tell their friends!
Guy
