As a boy, my nephew, the live wire, squiggled and wiggled, tackled and ran, butted and spun. Even when he "read," he turned the book round and round and round. He called it "turning the pages." Today, on turning 40, he stills flicks pages when he reads. Otherwise he channels his energy into family, work, friends, and bicycling or running.
It's hard to believe the boy with the large head and flailing hair is the man who can now call himself middle-aged.