My mom's got a ton of horror/hilarious stories about my twin bro and I as little kids. I guess my brother was a little more impatient and sulky and I was more patient and happy. We were both pretty quiet and if we were left alone, we NEVER stayed where we were put. My mom's stories always start with "Then I noticed the house was completely silent and I knew something was up." That's when she'd usually find us doing something ridiculous, like using stools to undo the deadbolt and escape the house, turning on the water in every faucet full blast and holding our hands under it to angle the shot so we could shoot the drywall off of the ceiling, or the time she left us alone for half an hour and came back to find we (my brother and sisters were really cooperative as young 'uns and this was rarely a good thing ) had somehow knocked a door off its hinges. The story goes we battered it down using our youngest sister as a battering ram (feet first thank you).