I can't resist adding, as a footnote to that previous entry, one of my favorite anecdotes about me-as-a-kid:
My room was a mess. My father told me to go to my room and clean it, and not come out 'til I was done.
An hour or two later, he stopped by to see how I was doing. Nothing had changed. The room was still every bit as messy as it had been.
"You haven't even started!" he said.
I was affronted. "Of course I have!" I said. "I've alphabetized my bookshelves!"
I have no memory of this incident, but my father tells me it's true, and it's certainly entirely in character.