Not much - I suppose the worst event was when I was about 10 or 11 and set off a couple of fire crackers in the church parking lot the Sunday after July 4th.
Although I did stuff, there wasn't much that I could do around the house that would get me in a lot of trouble. In the 6th or 7th grade, we'd go behind the hill in the back of the elementary school (K-8th grade then) during lunch period, and prepare for an invasion by the next grade up. As the lunch periods were staggered by 15 minutes, we had that amount of time to get ready for the next older grade. Elsewhere in the forum, I have already told about our most memorable battle, when we made catapults out of stripped sumac bushes to fire sticks at the older kids as they were coming over the hill. We didn't get in trouble for that, though. Another day, we wrote insulting messages intended for the next grade on rocks leading up the hill with Magic Markers. Many of them were obscene. Later that day, four of us were called into the office, where the principal had some of these rocks. He told us that this was going to go on our permanent record, and we might never be able to get into college or get a good job, and so on. I didn't quite believe all that, but you can never be sure, you know. I never heard anything from my parents about it so I don't think it went any further than that talk. The question never came up on a job interview. We did a lot worse stuff than that, but either didn't get caught or didn't get in any trouble over it. We blew stuff up with dynamite one day while I was in elementary school, but we never got caught for that. Dynamite was a little more common in those days, at least in the rural areas, as people could buy it at the lumber yard for blowing stumps out of the ground, and my uncle had some stored in his barn. During the 4th of July celebrations at the county park in Wallace, we set some dynamite off along the railroad tracks behind the park and ran. The adults came running but we were in the woods by then. Attempts at bomb-making were a common pastime, although we weren't able to produce any spectacular explosions without the dynamite.
I was about 7 and at my grandparent's house. I decided that cutting out paper dolls would be easier using a razor blade than scissors, so I laid the paper down on my grandma's sofa and carefully cut them all out. (Thanks, Gillette double-edge!) Unfortunately, I also cut them out of the upholstery fabric. I can't believe I didn't get spanked for that, but I suppose they figured I felt bad enough about it after seeing how upset my poor grandma was.
Lying, about not having homework. Mother went to schoo found out I was lying. , it was not pretty punishment. By todays standards child abuse by my fathers belt. Appartantly lying was my thing until then. I grew up and learned most people do not appreciate the truth. What dad forgot to say is in some cases you must be tactful with the truth. And, never lie to your doctor, lawyer, teacher or preacher - and the IRS!
Oh dear, where do I start? Standing up in a very conservative country church at age 3 and when the preacher paused giving his "The Failing of Christmas" sermon, I said, "Santa Claus and God are the same, be nice and you get gifts, be naughty and you get hell." Next was the neighbor boys betting me I (age 6) couldn't throw a rock hard enough to break a big window in their house. They were wrong! I felt better since we all got spanked and extra chores were added at home and also pitchforking horse manure at their place. Besides that, I had to empty my piggy bank and hand over birthday and Christmas money that year. I knew then and there that I would outsmart these three boys from that time forward and I did. My next serious offense was at age 12 making myself a bikini out of material my mother gave me to make a long skirt. I had plenty left for a mini skirt, but that didn't go over very well either. That was quickly forgotten when the hawk that was killing my free-range chickens was met with flying 8 mm lead from my dad's K 43 semi-auto. Three shots exactly hit the power line transformer it was sitting on. The hawk was killed by the transformer explosion. Three days without electricity and once again my savings were depleted to pay for the transformer, plus snapping beans and shelling peas after I finished several hours on the tractor harrowing the hay fields. No one had sympathy for my bruised sore shoulder from the recoil. I should have used my bolt action 22, but somehow the heat of the moment called for more rapid firepower, an assault weapon!
Can't remember a thing for trouble before becoming a teen, but after becoming a teen.........a very different story! Just to mention one here, in high school, would change an "F" grade to a "B" or an "A". After my step-dad would sign the Report Card, I'd erase the extra line/lines and it would show an "F" again. I only got a Report Card twice a year, so changing it back to a "B" or "A" wasn't to difficult. What can I say.........step-dad had me take Drafting, of which I didn't like at all, and, I took one year of Algebra, of which I definitely shouldn't have. Never had to ever change my grades in Typing (4 years of) and Speech & Drama. Was excellent in both of those classes.
When we were about 7 or 8 years old, the neighbor boy and I planned a practical joke to play on his younger brother. We didn't think of the possible outcomes. The brother, who was not as smart as we thought he was, could have gotten hurt badly. Turns out just got a face full of dirt. I'll leave it at that. My mother witnessed the incident in person, and clean the dirt off his face. The little brother ran and told his mother. I didn't get spanked. Worse. The silent treatment with the look that says... Do anything like that again and you're going to the orphanage. I don't remember what happened to the neighbor boy, except he was still allowed to stay at his house.
My parents weren't spankers, either... but I'm sure I could have used an occasional swat. I dreaded my dad being disappointed in me more than any spanking.
Now they want to take my .22 away with all guns. Probably because of dynamite toting teens. No wait! I have heard nothing of taking away explosives.
I can see now you and I would have been one hell of a team.. I stayed in trouble. My brothers would scream if momma even picked up a switch, I'd just look at her and say, "it didn't hurt with every stripe". When power was knocked out, we'd would bathe and wash clothes in the creek. One day I am stomping out a wall rug, The Lords Last Supper. I was maybe 10 yr old. I was singing one of the song I had just made up, " stomp the bread but don't stomp the wine", when 2 very large moccasins came from under the rocks right up to my face. about the same time momma was saying she was going to beat the hell out of me for blasphemy. She saw the snakes she said 'don't move 'which I already knew that. they then ran out of the water towards her, which was a bad move on the snake's part, she was known as the pistol packing blonde from Redan Road, and never without her pearl handle 38. She was an ex city slicker who finally bought lots of land in the country and practiced with her gun all the time since we were alone in the middle of lots of woods. Divorced, it was just her and us 3 kids. Said she would not raise kids in the city like she was raised. I was 9 months old when she bought the land.
Best birthday party I ever went to. It was my cousin Gene's 7th or 8th birthday party. His mother was preparing the food in the house. Meanwhile, we young boys were playing in the garage when Gene found a book of matches. I was very young but happy to help Gene and other kids to light some of the matches. Then came the call from Gene's mother to come and eat in the house. All of us left the garage and I swear nothing was on fire. Absolutely nothing. A little while later, the fire trucks showed up and tried to save the garage but it was too late. Most of it had burned down. A little later, Gene's father drove into the driveway to park his car in garage. I can imagine the look on his face and what he later said to Gene. I doubt it was "Happy Birthday son". Best damn birthday party ever!