I used to live in a two-story house with a basement, and because my family only really used the first floor, the basement was my special hideout. At least, in my aspirational young mind, it was supposed to be. This sentiment was only hindered by the fact that I was prohibited from going downstairs alone, and being a self-proclaimed “good boy,” I listened to and agreed with everything my parents ordered. That is, until my 8th birthday.

As a child, I was very attentive and loved to read books, which is why for this birthday my parents got me the classic Alice in Wonderland. I was hooked, intrigued by the adventures that an ordinary kid could stumble upon simply by being curious. I began to wonder if something so extraordinary could happen to me, so naturally, I asked my parents if I could go down to the basement by myself to read. And to my complete, utter shock, they said no.

Although I knew better than to question the authority of my parents, I exclaimed, “Why not? I’m already eight years old, and it’s not like I’m going to fall down the stairs!”

As expected, they didn’t budge. This time, their answer was a firmer, more definite no. I knew from experience that I had no chance of changing their decision once those stony facades set in, so with the saddest pout of my life, I let out an agitated “Fine!”

As I laid in bed later that night, I asked myself why I wasn’t allowed to go down alone. How was I ever going to find an adventure if I couldn’t even conquer my own basement? My own residence? Some tossing and turning later, I decided that it was time to take control of my life. I was eight, for heaven’s sake!

When the telltale sound of my father’s snoring permeated the silent night, I slowly slipped out of bed. I quietly eased open the door and crept across the creaky floorboards of the narrow hallway. Every wrong step I took was a chance for my parents to wake up and for all hell to break loose, so I made sure to step lightly and cautiously. After what felt like a millennium, I finally reached the end of the hall, and in front of me stood the entrance to my long-awaited rabbit hole.

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that this was it, there was no going back. Once I opened that door, I would be disobeying my parents’ direct orders, and my “good boy” status would dissolve into naught. However, I would also become my own person for the first time. This was the only time I had even come close to having an adventure, and my only chance to be like Alice. If I chickened out now, I would never forgive myself, and I would never, ever be more than a boring, obedient child. 

I took another deep breath and pushed the door open.

The mouth of the basement was shrouded in darkness, and the inky blackness obscured the stairs from view. I peered through the door and shuddered. A cold sweat broke over my skin and a cool breeze tickled my goosebumps. My breath caught in my throat and my heart began pumping at four times its normal speed. Where was the bottom of the staircase? I tentatively took a step forward… only to find nothing there and to fall into the impenetrable darkness.

Bang!

Boom!

Bam!

Pow!

Crack!

The descent seemed to go on forever. After what felt like five hours, but was actually five seconds, I finally hit rock bottom. The momentum caused me to bang my head into the wall, leaving a permanent dent (in the wall, not my head). The racket that I caused must’ve woken up the entire neighborhood, let alone my parents. And when they came downstairs to investigate the source of the noise, they found a bruised, humiliated, and guilty little boy, regretting his decision to look for an adventure. One look at my disappointed, tear-stained face was enough for my father to double over with laughter, while my worried mother followed soon after.

Looking back years later, I’ve come to understand something: sure, it may have been in my best interests to listen to my parents and not go down the stairs in the middle of the night, but this wouldn’t have happened if my parents had explained why I wasn’t supposed to go down in the first place. Unexplained limits invite transgressions (especially when the culprit is an inquisitive little boy) because curiosity is part of our nature. No matter how hard we fight it, it always manages to sneak past our defenses and to make us helpless to its influence. And while I tell myself that I won’t make a mistake like that ever again, I know that the next rabbit hole is just around the corner.