Life is like a sharp stick, and at first I had no idea what to do with it.

My first thought was defence.

I used it as a weapon, to defend my territory against others also armed with sticks.

It was fun for a while, and after some war talks we decided to merge territories and gather our forces.

Then we had a lot of sticks and nothing much else to do with them. We made tents and huddled inside while talking about what to do with the rest.

Someone had a bright idea, and soon we set about making fire!

It worked a little too well, maybe, and our tents started to smoke-

“THOMAS! What the hell are you doing!”

Mum ran over and poured water over our creation. “That’s it! You are grounded, mister!”

She grabbed me and I was pulled away from my tribe as other angry parents descended.

I was banned from the playground but at least I still had my stick.