I remember being an impatient kid when something I really wanted was on its way. The first time I was aware of my parents mail-ordering something for me -- I think it was a baseball jersey I especially coveted -- I can recall bombarding them with a chorus of the phrase, "when is it going to get here?" I realize now that hearing a six-year-old ask that question 300 times a day for three or four days was genuine torture for my parents. I'm glad the World Court has no juvenile department, or I would have spent my childhood in a cell in the Hague. 
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