From “The Human Condition: A User’s Manual,” by Arnold Kunst
I remember, vividly remember, an incident with my best friend Jerry when we were both aged four or so. One day while we were playing with our toy cars in his sand-box he stole my very favorite toy car and then pretended he hadn't. I lay awake for some time that night plotting my revenge: the next day I was going to pretend he was my friend and while we were playing I was going to slip one of his favorite cars into my pocket. I remember how the very prospect of getting even, laying there sleepless in my bed that night, was utterly delicious to revel in.
So, the next day I pretended we were friends as usual, and we began playing cars in his sand-box as we had the previous day. I continued playing and, when I got home at the end of the day, remembered the elaborate revenge I had planned, but then forgot to carry out! In the course of playing I found the car he had taken - he hadn't hidden it very well. Even so I initially felt bad that I had failed to get my delicious revenge - it was as if I had somehow let the team down. Then, that second night, it hit me: forgetting revenge and playing with a friend was maybe the better choice.