I can remember as a kid.....

Having to go into my home for ANYthing was torture. When I simply had to enter the house, and thereby interfere with play time, I'd do so like that little cartoon Tasmanian devil... frantically... HAD to get back outside.

I was hell on our screen door... punched holes in it many times... knocked it off its hinges more than a few times. My Dad just loved coming home from working in the fields all day to find his screen door hanging by one hinge.