Skipping stones
I used to skip stones. I’m not sure why, because it wasn’t THAT interesting, but I did it anyway, until my arm got tired, or I exhausted the convenient supply of stones. Mom said not to play down by the river. But in the summertime, with a bike, a bunch of brothers, endless days of lazy, unsupervised time, plus the river and park calling “Play! Play! Come and play!”, where else could a boy go? I could be wrong, because throwing stones doesn’t really seem like a highly recommendable pastime.