Tony was a child full of mischief. His kind of mischief was not the noisy, reckless kind where children cracked vases or shattered windows, but the quiet, curious kind that always left his parents holding their heads in disbelief.
He had the habit of pulling things apart, having this conviction that he was on the brink of a great discovery each time.
No doubt, every child grew up wondering if the people they saw on TV were actually inside the TV. But that was a different story for Tony-he unscrewed the family radio to “find the people inside who kept singing.”
And that was the end of hearing the evening news play in the living room.
Another time, he poked around the toaster because he wanted to know why bread browned on both sides. That experiment ended with so much black smoke curling into the kitchen ceiling and his mother fanning the fire alarm with a dish towel.
Even the electric fan was not spared. Tony had carefully dismantled the blades, promising his father he would build a stronger one that could fly like a helicopter. Well, the only thing that flew that day was his father’s slippers, narrowly missing Tony’s head.
His parents were so exhausted and they decided on one rule which was of course non-negotiable: “no more experiments without supervision.”
Tony’s punishment for breaking that rule came without warning when he dismantled his iPad. That one stung so badly because unlike the toaster or radio, the iPad wasn’t replaced. His parents insisted he learned the consequences of breaking things in the name of “science.”
Tony sulked at first, but deep inside, his curiosity never went away. It only waited for the right time to strike.
That chance came one quiet Saturday afternoon.
His parents had left to visit a neighbor who had just delivered a baby, promising to be back in a little while. His nanny had also gone out for groceries, leaving Tony alone with nothing but the television for company.
At first, he behaved himself. He sprawled across the couch, flipping channels, sipping juice and pretending not to notice how quiet the house felt. But as minutes rolled into hours, Tony’s eyelids were drooping. Even cartoons lost their appeal. Four hours later, the living room felt like a prison cell.
“I’m going to fall asleep if I keep watching this,” Tony muttered to himself, tossing the remote aside.
He wandered into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of milk from the fridge.
But as soon as he shut the door, he paused. For the hundredth time, he wondered: “Why does the light in the fridge go off when you close it?”
The thought poked at his brain until, like a switch flipping, a spark of excitement lit up his boredom. His eyes widened in that excitement and he felt his fingers tingle.
“This is it,” he whispered. “The perfect experiment.”
Tony ran straight to the basement to find his father’s toolbox. It wasn’t there. “Daddy must have hidden it on purpose,” he grumbled. As he was not one to give up, he sneaked into his parents’ room and spotted the blue metal box under his father’s reading table. He gave a victory smirk.
Moments later, the kitchen floor was scattered with bolts and screws rolling in circles. Tony had gotten the fridge door halfway off its hinges, leaning back to admire his handiwork. He flipped the switch and squinted his eyes. The light stayed on.
“Yes!” he said triumphantly. “So that’s how it works!”
But his victory was not for long because it was in that moment that he discovered he literally had no idea how to fix the dangling wires or the heavy door lying awkwardly to the side. And so, for the first time, doubt crept into his mind.
Still, his curiosity pushed him further. He then thought of the television. “If I can understand how that works, maybe I can fix the fridge too.”
And so, before anyone could say “Jack the builder,” the back of the television was laid bare. Tony crouched with a screwdriver in one hand and pliers in the other, ready to begin what he imagined would be his big breakthrough.
Then…voices. He froze.
Peering through the window, he spotted three figures walking toward the house. His nanny, his mother and his father. They were laughing, while carrying bags of groceries in their hands.
Panic surged through his entire being. The tools clattered to the floor. His dreams of becoming a world-class scientist dissolved into one cold thought: “I’m doomed.”
He dropped everything and bolted to his room, slammed the door shut and buried his face in his pillow.
Moments later, the front door opened. His parents’ cheerful chatter ended abruptly when they entered the living room.
“My goodness…” his mother gasped.
His father stared at the mess and at the scream of his wife, he walked into the kitchen to see the fridge door leaning on the counter with screws everywhere.
He didn’t shout or scold. Instead, he quietly pulled out his phone and called a technician.
The silence was worse than anger.
Tony lay in his room trembling, straining his ears for the sound of his name. He heard nothing. The absence of rebuke was so scary. He was so scared that tears welled up in his eyes. And by nightfall, he could no longer bear it.
He tiptoed into the living room with tear-stained cheeks. “I’m sorry,” he blurted, collapsing beside his mother. “I didn’t mean to break everything. I was just… bored and curious. Please forgive me.”
His mother sighed, pulling him into her arms. “Tony, do you know how it feels to come home and see this chaos? You could have hurt yourself. You actually made us feel like you don’t value the things we work hard for.”
Tony’s sobs came stronger. Her words pierced deeper than any spanking could. “I won’t do it again. I promise. I’ll never touch anything without asking first.”
His father finally spoke, his voice calm but firm. “Curiosity is good, son. But curiosity without discipline is way too dangerous. You want to build things? Then learn to do it the right way. Until then, I don’t want to see you perform any experiment.”
The tension lifted with those words. They forgave him, though he knew that the trust he had broken would take time to rebuild.
But for the first time, he realized some questions were better answered with patience and guidance, not pliers and screwdrivers even though his mind still raved with curiosity.
He knew that someday, he would become a scientist but at least he wouldn’t be one who destroyed fridges in the process.