With a handful of bloody baby teeth, I hopped down the stairs- smile on my face- knowing I no longer needed a trip to the dentist.
With a handful of bloody baby teeth, I hopped down the stairs- smile on my face- knowing I no longer needed a trip to the dentist.
You say that there's no sorry in the real world but I took your sorry with a smile even after you destroyed my childhood.
She could have been popular were it not for a poor political decision in first grade: never make friends with the boy who believes he is He-Man.
One day when I was four years old I started screaming and crying at the Dippin Dots stand because my mom told me I couldn't get any, so the guy just gave me some for free.
When I told my third grade teacher I was gay, she told me to never say that again, then put me in timeout.
I like to think Hemingway's famous six word story is about a little girl who likes to be barefoot all the time and outgrows her shoes before she gets to use them.
The best ice cream I've ever had was the one a random stranger brought me when I got my hand stuck in an elevator at age four.
As I stood there, wondering why I felt nothing for the body of my once-living grandmother, I wiped away an annoying tear that had blurred my right eye.
I couldn't stop smiling when I was told that for the first time, my work would be acknowledged in the school magazine.
If my family is Christian, then why do I remember watching Sesame Street in Yiddish?
I became very disturbed when a 5yr old boy said to me, "Oh take me under the water so I can be sent up to heaven."
No one ever believes me, but a one-legged man did steal my creative writing at a school camp.
I told you everything and we cried together on my bedroom floor but the next morning I woke up and found you in the kitchen making him pancakes.
When I was little, my aunt sent a clown with a balloon bouquet to my hospital room to cheer me up, and after the clown saw me, my mom had to spend an hour trying to get him to stop crying.
While the other kids made a snowman and the adults conversed indoors, I slipped off the dock into the snowy lake and had to be my own hero at age 7.
In second grade, everyone thought it was the rain that made her slip off the monkey bars when it was really the rock that I threw.
When the old lady joked that phone books were best to hit children with becuase they didn't leave a mark, I wanted to tell, she was right, my mother had already tried, I chuckled instead.
The definition of perspective is that moment after a seven-year-old dying of cancer asks if you're ok.
The Soup Kitchen that I volunteered at as a teenager is now my only source of 3 meals a day.
I was excited to climb out and meet her, but the window glass wasn't.
I haven't spoken to her in five years, but it's still habit to look at her house as I drive past.
When I was little my older brother convinced me that if I never farted I would blow up at the age of 34.
All my mom's kids have two middle names, but one of mine comes from a woman whose son set the fire that killed her in her sleep.
I caught my 3-year old son doodling on the screen of the new LED TV when he uttered his first complete sentence of, "Draw only on paper mommy?"
After driving 3 hours in traffic and missing Mother's Day with my own children to take my mother to lunch, it was wholly disheartening to hear that she has decided that all of her past life was terrible and she is only living for herself.
I just today realized that you had to pay admission to the art museum after years of my father telling me to walk right in and avoid the people in the uniforms.
When my son was 5, he cried so hard when I told him he would one day die, but he cried much harder when I told him he'd be in school until he was 18.
When my brother was eight years old, he walked into his speech therapist's office and told her, "I don't need your help anymore, I can speak just fine" in clear English.
My grandmother asked me what my favourite part of "Titanic" was when we saw it at the movies when I was 6, and I replied, 'When everyone fell asleep in their floaties.'
When I was a baby, my mother sucked the equivalent of half an ear of corn out of my nose with a bulb syringe.
When I was 11, my Mom and Dad made me give away the dog I had since I was 4 because we were getting a new couch.
When I was nine I moved to France and was heartbroken to leave the boy I loved behind, but 20 years later he found me on Facebook and now we're married and have two kids.
Once, when I was 10, I crawled inside my big orange suitcase (I'm very tiny) and showed my brother, who promptly locked me in it and left me there for an hour.
My pantleg got sucked into an escalator when I was 18 months old, and at 21, I still hesitate for a second before stepping onto the moving stairs.
In my over zealous rush to impress the hot blond in PE class, I foolishly paired up with my most uncoordinated friend for the two man potato sack race.
Like many of my mother's stories about me I do not remember this, but when I was a small child she claims she found me high in a large oak tree that had no low-hanging branches for me to climb up on.
We may have been in hospital together for only a week but you were the best non-girlfriend i ever had.
It took me seven years to realize that when my mother sent me to him, she never wanted me helped, she wanted me drugged.
I was raped, molested, abused, lost, shot, and abandoned, but my biggest fear is taxidermy.
When I came home my daughter ran up to me and said, "Grandma taught me to burp the alphabet!".
Three years ago, I was so ecstatic to be playing with the less talented, B-team football players that I broke my hip on the third play of the game.
I was hastily packed, and we were off to Argentina - but first, my father fell off the roof and landed directly on our potted cactus.
Walking out of my elementary school with my mom's hand tightly holding mine, I never thought I would see the people jump out of the towers.
Despite my mother's vociferous insistence, self-esteem issues, and vicious beatings to the contrary, I still managed to escape childhood with the belief that it was not my fault that my dad molested me, right?
When I was two, I taught my five year old brother how to undo the child-lock on the kitchen cupboards.
Although my parents and the police had spent three frantic hours looking for me, my mother had the presence of mind to take a photograph when they found me fast asleep under my bed.
Darling Nikki was probably not the best song choice for family karaoke, Christmas, 1984.
I asked if I was alive when my younger brother was born.
Very few people can claim they've known their significant other since they were velociraptors wrecking havoc on the playground.
My cousin and I were two years old, playing tag around the coffee table, not understanding why all the grown-ups were crying.
After reading a box of old greeting cards from my parents, I realized for the first time that the only card my Dad ever signed "Love, Dad" was the last one he ever gave me before he unexpectedly died.
At the age of eight, I learned the valuable lesson of not looking into a tube of super glue as you squeeze it.
When I was on my under-twelve soccer team, I was standing in the back row for the team picture and my coach grabbed my butt right when the photo was taken.
I was genuinely surprised when I learned that other kids' moms didn't forget to pick them up after school every week.
He used to call me "Juice-Juice" because "Alyssa" was too hard to say and it was his favorite drink.
When I was five, I licked my father's shaver and cut my tongue.
A 5'2" mother becomes a very imposing figure when angered while holding a vegetable knife.
One Halloween when I was little, before I knew any dirty words, my family dressed my puppy up in a skeleton costume so I called him a "boner."
After falling out of the shower and bashing my head on the toilet, I realized that the shower is, in fact, NOT the best place to try and learn the "Running Man" dance.
Fifteen years after my question crushed her foot, she called me from the chair lift, about to ski for the first time since I was three.
When I was four years old, I ate chap stick that smelled like strawberries even though I knew it was wrong.
The night before my dad died, I rolled my eyes and gave an exasperated sigh when he asked me to go to the kitchen and get him a glass of water, but I can't remember if I told him that I loved him.
When I was 3, my cousin convinced me that avocado was really moldy butter and 15 years later, I still can't eat it.
Two days later, I went back to the high school I'd sworn to leave forever.
My brother and I talk about everything, except the time our father spent in a mental hospital.
I just wanted a cookie from the top shelf that morning in 1979, but ended up with a dislocated knee, a broken arm and a rusty nail through my penis.
My ex-wife would freeze up every time she told the story of coming home from church as a child and finding all the dolls she had left lined up in tiny chairs replaced by the dead squirrels that her father had killed that morning.
No one, not my mom or the doctor right in front of me, realized I was having a seizure.
As the weight of size 13 white velcro sneaker came down on my eight-year-old frame, I made a mental note to never again fake-kick anyone while wearing clogs.
I knew my brother was going to be a good acrobat when, at five years old, he tripped over a rock mid run and did a 360 degree flip into a nearby fish pond.
I'd broken it, and after hastily putting it back together I waited until the cat brushed by so I could watch it fall again.
In the middle of my fifth winter, I slipped and fell and cracked my head open on a set of cement stairs because I thought the paint on the railings was wet.
Just as I was about to tell my eight-year-old daughter the truth about Santa Claus, she said she was going to ask him to end the war in Iraq.
As a child, my parents convinced me that when the ice cream truck played its song, it meant the ice cream was finished.
My mother stopped buying me Barbies when I was a child after she found them hanging by their necks from the stairwell.
My grandmother never asked me to go back to Sunday School after I was told to color a picture of Jesus, while going through a 'draw handlebar moustaches and pitchforks on everything' phase.
After playing dollhouse with my goldfish for the fourth time, my mother finally decided to buy me a hamster.
I remember fighting with my sisters over who would make what breakfast item, when my mother finally had it and yelled "You make the grits and I'll cut the cheese!"
The only thing that I can remember about it is the strange looking chair that I had to sit in, and how you never hugged me after that.
On my very first camping trip, I learned that if I drop a dead caterpillar in my mom's coffee, she will not only not get mad at me, but she will also still drink the coffee.
It took several visits to the cemetery before I realized that when my father started digging around my sister's headstone, he was going to put stones under it to keep it from sinking and wasn't going to dig her up.
My sister caught me eating the callus I'd peeled off the bottom of my foot, and that was the end of that habit.
I was shocked to discover that my fondest childhood memory was actually a scene from an old movie.
I asked my mother why she'd stopped keeping a journal after I was born and she said, "I was finally happy."
While out to lunch with a roommate I hadn't seen in 27 years, she mentioned between bites of her chicken salad sandwich that her first memory at age 3 was watching her mother try to commit suicide by setting herself on fire.
I kept screaming, thinking I'd gone blind, until my mom rushed into my room and told me to open my eyes.
I will always blame my inability to fall asleep and the subsequent years of depression on you letting me fall out of a two story window when I was a toddler.
Thinking that a wedgie was a kind of cookie, I eagerly accepted one.
I was relieved when my middle-school friend revealed to me that, unlike what my mother had told me, hot dogs were not the penises of pigs.
After my mom dropped a frozen corndog down the back of my sweatpants, I stopped talking back.
It was perfectly in character for me as a child, when I maintained to my first grade teacher that my favorite animal was not a giraffe or tiger, but grass.
A couple of times down the hot metal slide and no one would know that I had wet my pants.
I'm told the scar isn't noticeable, but I still hate that four-year-old girl I used to be for not putting her feet down.
My sister was obsessed with Ricky Martin until she had a dream that he stabbed and killed me.
My mom frantically searched for me around the house to finally find me finishing off a big stick of butter.
After our older son declared his desire to be a veterinarian, the seven-year-old said, "I want to be a Chinese man."
Sledding was great until the tree got in my way.
I tried karate at age 7 and quit after realizing it conflicted with watching new episodes of "Full House."
May my dearest sister rot in hell for what she did to a 3-year-old boy.
I realized that I was placating my drunken mother the same way I used pacify to my drunken college friends.
While walking down a street in New Orleans with his wife and two young daughters, my father was approached by a prostitute.
Soon my monthly therapy sessions were replaced with monthly orthodontist visits.
The fire we started in that corn field was terrible for more reasons than just its failure to produce popcorn.
I thought it a bit odd, but truly believed my mom when she told me that Santa billed parents for all of the toys he left us.
The most prominent memory I have of my grandmother is the night she tried to kill me.
At the age of 12 after a night of particularly heavy discipline, I screamed at my mother that I had called the cops and she told me she might have breast cancer.
It was when I saw her feet dangling by the bedside wastebasket that I realized she hadn't been kidnapped, but that I had mistakenly pushed her off the bed in my sleep.
I am very happy that I was asked to be my girlfriend's sister's stepdaughter's stepsister's godfather.
I wonder if my now 22-year-old daughter remembers, at age 4, that the first thing she said to me after I told her that Daddy had died was, "Can I have a glass of water?*
When I was six years old, I cried when my family told me we couldn't go see the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park because they were all already dead.
He bounced off three branches before hitting the ground, but when he got up the first thing he said was, "Don't tell Mom!"
I have a twisted family that made me believe that chocolate milk came from brown cows until I was 14.
Before I hit puberty, my whole body could fit through a coat hanger, but I still thought I was fat.
My dad showed up drunk to my senior prom just to say hello.
He draws me pictures on my toaster strudels just like my mom used to do.
Nothing is more embarassing than having to tell the doctors that the stab to my eye that was causing me to get the stitches in my eyelid was all because my sister was trying to write 'loser' on my forehead.
When I was 14 I saw a gang of younger kids killing a wild rodent, so I went behind the apartment building and cried.
I think what bothers me the most is that my mother pretends not to understand why I will never leave my children alone at their house.
At the age of five, I had an obsession with licking my mothers deodorant.
I believe it was unfair of my parents to put so much pressure on me as a child to make a choice as to what percent of milk I preferred.
That night I fell out of bed and smacked my nose on the metal bedframe, and the next morning my dad joked that the toothfairy pushed me.
When my six-year-old brother puked squash all over our dining room table, Mom decided she did not wield the power to make us eat anything.
I hated my mom for selling our house, a little because I grew up there, but mostly because all of my pets were buried there, and the new people wouldn't care.
When I was little, my older brother had me convinced that the members of Hootie and the Blowfish were named Hootie, And, The, and Blowfish.
I watched a hideously cheesy episode of Lawrence Welk on PBS last night and loved every minute of it because it made me miss my grandfather a little less.
When he was a little kid, my now-gay brother asked my mom when he would turn into a girl.
There was a night early in my childhood when I was certain my mother was going to commit suicide.
My grandpa choked up as he said, "House plants grow better when the house is filled with love, and I've never seen the house plants grow as well as they have since you moved in a year ago."
When I was 10-years-old, I gave my mom a note that said, "You are a bich!" and she laughed and showed me my mistake.
After that dream, I never saw Ronald McDonald the same again.
When I picked up my black grandfather from a white woman's house running down the fire escape holding his pants up, I realized I had an interesting childhood.
When I was a little girl, I used to feel bad for the sock I didn't put on first, so I would tell it nice things and switch whether I put on my right sock or my left sock on daily.
The day my Mother accidentally left my little brother at the dog pound gave me the only self-esteem boost I would ever need.
I was bitter that it was my favourite cup that broke when he threw it at my mum.
As the actor dressed in the Minnie costume stepped on my sandaled four-year old foot after I asked for an autograph I never received, I realized that Disneyland was not "The Happiest Place on Earth" after all.
One of my most vivid memories as a child was kicking my brothers privates, not because I was mad at him, but because I was curious if the men in the movies really felt the pain.
When I was three, I thought my mom's hot curling iron was a popsicle.
I've slept with a fan on every night for the past 13 years, 7 months, and 14 days.
As a child, I used to put every single one of my teddy bears around me on my bed before going to sleep thinking that I would be safe from the monsters that way.
I'd secretly made the ramp higher than agreed, and as I watched my brother's bicycle land on top of him, I realized with growing panic that he was definitely going to tell on me.
I never thought I could become immune to watching my boys drink water out of the dog's bowl.
My little brother thinks that he is a super hero because he is convinced he can poop the alphabet.
When I asked my son how hitting his brother in the eye could be "an accident," he replied, "I was trying to hit him in the nose."
As I woke up from my nap to find written on my feet "This is my momma and you can't have her," I realized that my child is very, very strange.
I can't tell what's worse: the death of the boy who pulled down his underwear in front of me in the first grade or feeling terrible every time I tell people about the first time I ever saw a penis.
There is a gerbil buried in a backyard somewhere in a purple Pog case shaped like a coffin.
My dad slammed the balsa-wood battleship he spent 1000 hours building against the wall when he had found we kids ruined it by floating it in the rain water.
When my 8-year-old niece came home from her friend's birthday party and assured me that she did not drink any beer, I knew something was very wrong with our culture.
It always brings a smile to my face when my dad tells large groups of strangers how he once cut himself on Jello.
I never really believed my mom's stories of how abusive her childhood was until two days ago when my grandmother pulled me aside and quietly informed me that she wished she had never ever adopted that nasty little irish girl.
The wanting to kill myself first began when I was told there was a heaven and that my older brother was there.
After finding out her grandfather was in the army, my daughter asked "Was he with the green guys or the tan guys?"
My childhood and my dog share a grave in my backyard.
When I was little I thought the "f" word was "fart" because I wasn't allowed to say it.
Imagine my surprise when my kindergarten deskmate tapped my on the shoulder only to vomit his afternoon milk and snack all over me.
As I lay on the ground clutching my ankle, I wished my favorite super hero had not been one with the power of flight.
As soon as I heard that the guy who sexually molested me as a child had been put in jail after 8 years, I felt as if a ton of bricks had been lifted off my heart.
I had to go to the hospital in the 7th grade after I fell off my bike because the sombrero I was wearing to block the sun blew off and I instinctively reached back to grab it and lost balance.
On my thirteenth birthday my parents gave me the best toys money could buy, and then in a moment of playful distraction they broke down and announced: "We are not your biological parents."
Each time I buckle my young daughters life jacket, I can still see her mom, running, screaming across the sand as they try and revive her.
The day he beat me into unconsciousness was the day I learned to lie to my mom.
A sleepover is a bad idea when your parents have really loud sex.
I stole a ring from a souvenir shop because I didn't know what money was.
I think my dad realized I would never take out the garbage again when the trash bag he told me to pick up turned out to be a three-foot-long snake coiled up in a corner.
The sadness and disappointment in my father's voice once I told him I killed the crab moved me to tears.
I was 7-years-old when I learned to ride a bike, all the while humiliated as my 5-year-old brother literally rode circles around me.
To my ten year old brain, wearing a homemade, dangling fork necklace was a great idea, until I knelt down and jabbed myself in the leg.
I still have the two huge dictionaries that my mother beat me with as a child.
My childhood finally made sense when I saw a cross dresser walk down the street and realized that that was my dad.
By the age of eight I had decided that my worst fear in life would be to ever get haemorrhoids, and I even spelt it right as I wrote it on my grade 3 paper.
I was so disappointed when I learned Santa was Mom and Dad, but I am so excited now that Santa is me.
I giggled at my high school graduation when I realized the boy I was walking beside to our seats was the same boy that held my hand at the roller rink in second grade.
In fifth grade, a classmate asked me to pull down my pants and when I did, he just pointed, laughed, and walked away.
Everything became clearer as I looked through old school projects and saw I listed the school librarian under the category of "best friend."
I was only five and he was seven, but we were responsible.
It was only appropriate that the one day that I, the most gullible student in the fourth grade at the time, did not believe a ridiculous story that someone told me was that day in September when the world changed forever.
I lit the gasoline-soaked, freshly-cut branches with a lighter that was about five feet too short.
As the vomit crawled up my throat I suddenly realized I was holding the barf bag upside down.
I hadn't seen her in twelve years, but my heart still broke when I saw her picture on CNN with "Missing" underneath it.
If my exasperated mother hadn't set me straight, I'd probably still think that cold turkey helped people quit smoking.
I used to want to be a writer when I grew up, until I learned the word "poverty."
When I was four, I ran my dads car into a brick wall in a supermarket parking lot.
Yesterday my five year old told me that he found out at school that Heaven is full of dead people.
On Mother's Day, I remember when my mother told me that if she had known about abortion in 1946 I wouldn't be here.
Because he slept on the top bunk, my brother always called me "the monster under the bed."
I think the imaginary friend I had when I was in elementary school wanted to spend more time with me then my boyfriend does.
At six-years-old my friends passed around a discarded, lit cigarette smoking it perfectly while I couldn't take a drag properly no matter how hard I tried.
Yesterday my four-year-old married his "girlfriend" and they shared a fruit muffin as their wedding cake.
My mother forgot to wash the pans between courses, resulting in cherry pie that tasted vaguely of fish, but it was still the best birthday ever.
I haven't seen my abusive brother since I was 10 and he just found me on myspace.
Now that I am raising my own children, it is even harder to understand my father's decision to opt out.
The support of the third grade class was striking, as the second grade's "Tinkerbell" died in silence.
Being mocked incessantly, every day, by your peers from the age of seven or so to the age of sixteen, changes you into the kind of person who can't muster up the courage to call a girl who might be willing to go out with you.
The first day I walked into six grade was the last day I was optimistic.
My sheltered, religious friend was crushed when she discovered that her family's "Christmas smell" -- the special aroma that she had only ever smelled on Christmas morning -- was, in fact, pot.
The elephant that lived in my parent's living room has moved to my house.
As I rummaged through the cereal box sleepy eyed this morning, a bit of sadness came over me when I remembered adult cereals don't contain prizes.
I was six when I woke up next to my grandma to find that she had died in her sleep.
As he watched them make his hamburger from the counter, my four year old announced loudly that he was no longer interested in being an astronaut when he grew up but would prefer to have a job at McDonalds.
I stole a pack of gum from a grocery store when I was eight, but felt so guilty about it that I left the pack on the windowsill outside.
When I was six I realized it was impossible to reach the mountains while riding my bike.
When I was seven I made my dad a Father's Day card that said, "Dad, thanks for always taking me to the beer store."
I found my notebook from second grade, and when I read my words, "It was a good thing when Abraham Lincoln invented Thanksgiving," I realized that second graders are genius... pure genius!
Being a kindergartner feeling as if he didn't deserve to live should have been an early indication that there's something wrong with me.
I don't know if it qualified as rape, but I know it was wrong.
I knew my step-son had been overly sheltered when he told me a character from Guitar Hero III was the "black version of Jimi Hendrix."
My father died when I was six and the day after, I wrote in my diary that I was feeling better.
Everytime I tripped when I was younger I used to think my feet were plotting against me and my hands were my only true friends.
As a kid dripping in mud, I couldn't see why bringing four frogs home in a zip lock bag was bad idea.
You would think that the weirdest thing about my family is that my step grandma is younger then my mom, but in fact it the strange thing is that she is sleeping with my mom's brother.
My parents filed for divorce on my brother's birthday but waited to tell us until mine that next week.
Imagine my two girls as they opened up their exciting Christmas toy, squeezed goop into molds, put the mold into the oven, then waited, and waited, and waited, realizing that there was no heat, no light bulb, and would be no bug - just a bunch of disappointing goo.
As you trip me in the hallway I remember the summers of our childhood where we vowed to be best friends forever.
Our father's favourite game of deserting us in public places strengthened our sibling bond.
My best friend hung himself on a Friday afternoon, and when I checked my cell phone the morning of his funeral I realized he had called me that day at 3:24PM.
The nine year old said he had moved on from his best friend, who was killed by a falling branch a year ago, but as he stared at the spot where he died, I knew he hadn't.
I realized I was smarter than him when I was eight and learned what alcohol was.
At Grandma's house her powder and rouge were in a little drawer right in front of the toilet, so bathroom trips took at least 10 minutes and left me looking like Tammy Faye Bakker.
My best friend was ecstatic to meet her mother, the woman that walked out on her as a child.
Thanks to my erasable Bic pen cap and hours spent lingering in after-school daycare all those years, generations of innocent, tenacious schoolmates never found Waldo.
We would spend hours "painting" her weathered, old fence with water, pretending that we were using the whitest paint around.
I will never live in a world as bright and beautiful and alive as I did when I was six.
After sixteen years, I believe I have finally fully paid my Karmic debt for pantsing Little-Dick-Don in front of our Boy Scout troop.
At sixteen I was shocked to discover that Oz was a world of vivid color because every year I had watched 'The Wizard Of Oz' on the tiny black and white television which was the only television my impoverished household could afford.
As a child, I would lay my shirt on the bed with the front facing me and then lift the shirt over my head, inadvertently ensuring that I had it on backward every single day.
When I was a kid I thought vampire's teeth were like straws.
Her uncle promised she could have any one item in Salvation Army for her birthday, but when she pointed at the fur coat she'd been coveting for three years he decided she wasn't worth it and bought her a pair of stockings instead.
I knew I was pronouncing "island" (is-land) wrong when I discovered the word "isle" in third grade.
I ran down the middle of the icy street chasing the yellow bus from which 24 of my fellow grade 3 students and the driver had completly forgotten about me after ice skating.
The feelings of resentment started when my younger sister got her 10-speed bike at the same time that I did.
The real trouble began when he set me on the bicycle and said, "You're on a hill, you don't have to do anything."
I lost my childhood the day I realized Happy Meals no longer filled me up.
I watched the old VHS tapes of him filming the ocean for most of the night with the sudden realization that he was filming the ocean because it was the last time he would ever see it again.
My rapist went to jail and was released early for "good behavior.".
I sometimes wonder if tricycling head-first into a metal pole when I was three and not being able to remember it happening are connected.
For my father, the disappointment of a son who didn't enjoy athletics was never ameliorated by a daughter ecstatic to fill that void.
Sometimes I wonder how the girl who tried stealing my Pokemon cards turned out.
I've been counting down to my 18th birthday on a calendar with the heading "# of days of childhood left", but I'm too busy with college to build a fort or play freeze-tag.
Upon entering practice room 158 this morning to find a large penis scratched into the wood of the piano, I realized once again that college boys never do grow up.
The cardboard paper camel I made my stepfather for his birthday is still hanging on the wall, left and abandoned, like us.
I see this boy walking to school every morning and sometimes I think he'll be the next high school shooter.
As a child, I used to eat all my cereal in case I hurt the feelings of any pieces of left-behind cereal.
Anyone else would have screamed too if a possum tried to climb up their shorts.
The last night of camp, when the counselor announced "If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands," no one clapped, but one kid did flip him off.
As a toddler, I went to Wal-Mart, saw my first black person, and promptly shouted that it was Lavar Burton from Reading Rainbow.
I told my three year old son that he was putting his shoes on the wrong feet and he responded that they were the only feet that he had.
While eating artichokes, one of his favorite dishes, Daddy told us how one night out walking he'd found a shoebox on the pier in Panama and when he opened the lid, inside was a dead baby.
As they sit and think they are better, I take away their food and never have felt smarter.
She smells like something unidentifiable from childhood.
I had to forgive my mom for using the duct tape, or else suffer the same fate.
I was molested for 8 years by my older brother, now he is leaving for iraq and I'm supposed to feel bad.
As I looked down at the extra ninety degree angle in my arm I told my gym teacher "I think I broke my arm."
My voice teacher was no longer my hero after I walked in on her having an affair with my friend's dad.
After adopting my father's habit of sitting through the entirety of movie credits, I realized that it had payed off when I saw the name Shelita Buffet scroll across the screen.
I used to wish my parents would divorce so that we could all be happier.
My teetotaling harks back to the ripe age of 13 when, in a fit of uncontrollable giggling, I was ordered to a guest bedroom so they could continue the Passover seder.
Twelve years later and I still think someone from the prison is calling to tell me he has died.
After I found a dirty old gym sock in my locker on the first day of freshman year, I knew high school was going to be the worst four years of my life.
I was a Jedi until I got my boobs and then was told I had to be Princess Leia and wait to be rescued.
With more of my life to come, I find it only getting better when the sun is out.
I wonder every day what it would be like to have achieved my childhood dreams, knowing it's impossible to grow up to be a kitten.
The day I found a twenty dollar bill on the street when I was 10 was the happiest day of my life.
"Sorry, sweetie," Mom said as she used some napkins to wipe the elephant snot off my forearm, "but he took all your peanuts."
I will never respect someone so deeply as my brother, who came to my birthday when my friends and four other brothers all decided that they had more fun things to do.
Under the couch is not a good place to dispose of the food that you don't want to eat.
I will always regret not being by the side of my 9 year old brother, my best friend, the day he died of Leukemia.
I hated long Sunday drives with my parents until the day they took me to see the redwoods.
When I was 5 and knew it all, I stubbornly ignored my dad's guidance, but then the stick in my eye incident shut me up for a while.
After I cleaned up, I walked back into my room with my mom and discovered that it was my sister who had peed on me from the top bunk.
As a kid ,I was burning bugs with a magnifying glass when my playmate's father took the glass, zeroed it in on my hand and asked "Do you want to know what the bugs feel"?
I reckon I was about eight, but I completely recall my sister throwing her nail scissors directly into the back of my knee.
Today I am safe and surviving but I was born to a hateful, abusive family and the end result left me fractured as a multiple.
I always remember the warm summer breeze on my face as a child, looking out towards the ocean some thirty years later the breeze found me once again.
I watch anything about cheerleading on TV that comes on because I always wanted to be one, when I was in high school almost 20 years ago.
One day, our kids will look through old photo albums and say, "Hey, why did Mom go to prom with you AND Uncle Chris, especially since Uncle Chris likes BOYS?"
Apparently wearing your undies on the outside doesn't make you Superman.
Though I was only 6, I knew how wrong I was to let my grandparents dog rapidly hump my pelvis, behind his dog house that spring.
When making a film for English class, chocolate pudding works wonderfully as a substitute for poop, as does vegetable soup for vomit.
I looked at the rusty nail in my foot and thought, "Maybe I shouldn't play 'Blindman's Bluff' with no shoes on."
My dismay led to tears when my Underoos didn't transform me into He-man like the commercial said.
The snow fell of the roof with a heavy thud, just like my poor Uncle Martin did a few winters prior.
She tried to kill herself on my thirteenth birthday, and sometimes I wish she succeeded.
Mother marched me right back into the store where I had just shoplifted a small toy.
At the age of 12, I found a wallet in a department store and lied to the owner when asked if I'd seen it.
Maybe I was wrong, but your "I love you" felt more heartfelt when you thought I was addicted.
I've never seen anyone look as blissed out as the tiny 3 year old whose was the perfect height to stand directly beneath the hand dryer.
It was so lonely growing up, the kindergarten teacher did not even miss me when I didn't come in after recess.
I will always remember from my boyhood the time that I brushed the whiskers out of a dead man's electric razor that I had inherited.
When he died, my life ever after was lived with an asterisk next to the events in my life that would have been better had he been there.
The best benefit of being good is that you can get away with almost anything.
I never knew what I wanted from life, except to be a better father to my children (if I have any) than mine was to me.
I once thought that not growing up sick would make me a better person, but then I learned that the opposite was true.
When I got my period at age 12, my father stood outside the bathroom door, trying to make me feel better by singing the words to a popular 1970s commercial, "You are a W - U - O - M - A - N, you are a woooman!"
I hit my head on the floor when I was 7 and since then my life has gone progressively downhill.
It was in equally shared tears of a naive teenaged girl that I realized that I too was rid of my childhood.
It is the definition of irony that you confess to me now, here in the broom closet, when I know that my breath reeks something fierce.
My mother took great delight in pointing out my shyness to strangers who were kinder to me than she ever was.
My cousin won a pig in a contest and on the day it vanished mysteriously, my grandama served us my favorite pork dish for lunch.
To this very day my kid brother still won't touch anything if I tell him it tastes like chocolate.
When I was 2 years old, I nearly burst into tears because Minnie Mouse's house was plastic.
When I was 12 my mom told me that I should sleep with as many men as possible.
I have been searching the real and the virtual world in vain for Mrs. Zeta, my wonderful school teacher, for the last 16 years.
After recess in Pre-K, I hid behind a big tree so I wouldn't have to go back to class.
At school on Monday, all of the other kids couldn't stop talking about Michael's death but I lived in fear of what they might say if they knew I was in the car that killed him.
When I was 5, I was in love with a kid who thought he was Spiderman.
I went to nerd camp, and it might have been the best thing that's ever happened to me.
When we were eleven he was grossed out when I accidentally took a drink from his glass, but by the time we were sixteen he actually wanted to swap spit with me.
My parents thought I was disturbed when I went as a serial killer one year, but it was time the Trix Rabbit learned that no means no.
I tried to humor my family because I was so small and crawled into the highchair at the restaurant - and it was funny until they had to unscrew it to get me out of there.
Everything was making a lot of sense until, three days before my bat mitzvah, my mother told me she was getting baptised.
Two stitches and twenty years later, I still don't know why she threw the rock at me, but I'm pretty sure that she was lying when she said, "I was playing hopscotch and missed."
I grabbed my brothers leg from underneath an adjacent toilet cubicle in a foodcourt and he ran out screaming.
My sister once caught me looking at her chest.
After the lego man's head was successfully extracted from my sinus at the pediatrician's office while my mother was in labor, my grandmother would not let me out of her sight.
We'd never said a single word to each other, but I asked her out (unsuccessfully) when we slow danced for the first time.
I was lost into a world of abuse, sex, and alcoholism at the ripe old age of three and it went downhill from there until my first day of sobriety some 20 years ago.
One second I was riding my bike down a hill the next I was on the asphalt crying with my shoulder torn apart.
I was more than half asleep when I heard my father speaking, but I didn't understand he was telling me she was dead.
As a child I used to think that 'Anon' was a Greek philosopher, when told otherwise, I lost my first real hero.
My father gave me a glass of milk to help swallow the pages as I was slowly force-fed the forbidden book he discovered hidden under my bed.
When the teacher asked my third grade class what they wanted to be when they grew up, I stood up and replied, "Not my father."
Mom, I never told you what they did to me, because I was ashamed and I was afraid you would think it was my fault.
It wasn't until my 3rd marriage proposal in 2 months at the ripe old age of 12 that i decided living in an orphanage in Venezuela wasn't going to be so bad after all.
When we asked our mom to tell us a story, she replied "A pig fell in the mud."
As an innocent eight year old, I had no idea that my threat to kill my younger brother and sister would bring about such rapid, and gratifying results, returning me to my rightful place at the center of the universe.
I'm happily married with a family, but I still pine for the girl who died in high school.
I often think it odd how one of my clearer childhood memories is of slapping my two year old brother's face as hard as my seven year old self could manage.
She breezed into my technology class, late and toting a beige shoulder bag, and I knew that some time later she was going to be the most wonderful thing in my life.
When I was eight or nine years old, I had a dream that I was riding my bike in the driveway and my dad backed the car into me, but instead of hurting me, it crushed the rear end of the car.
Only a few blocks from home my 3-year-old brother opened the rear door of our family's Dodge Polara, and quick as a wink he was gone.
When I finished kindergarden I was so excited because I thought it was all the school i would need for the rest of my life.
His tiny fingers clutched the crayon as they had once clutched the trigger, and like so many boys his age, he stuck his tongue out while he drew.
I was nearly sent to the hospital because I could not convince the school nurse that my head had always been this shape.
When hurricane Frederick hit our home town my brother was upset because the TV movie of the week, The Bingo Long Travelling All-Stars and Motor Kings, was pre-empted for hurricane coverage.
I knew it was bad that day when my mother showed me her wrists, "I cut myself again."
My first sexual experience was with my neighbor, who was older than me and told me we should play house and that I could be the mommy and she could be the daddy.
If only I knew then what I know now, I'd have done everything differently -- but that wouldn't have made me who I am today.
After she flung the stall door open and laughed at me, I sat cross-legged in the grass and wet my pants, too afraid to return to the restroom.
In the days after my mother died, we found innumerable small boxes tucked away in the drawers and corners of our house, on each box a label and on each label a name that was not mine.
One time, when I was young, I thought I was The Rhino (of Spiderman fame) and put my head through the glass part of our screen door.
I once convinced multiple people that a music video involving people smashing watermelons to the ground was about life in the future.
While on a trip in Boy Scouts, I stopped to relieve myself, only to find a gaggle of Girl Scouts on the other side of the tree I was peeing on.
My parents told me chainlink fencing grew on mountainsides, and I believed them because I saw it growing on the roadside, and because it kind of made sense.
At the tender age of 5 I got my hand stuck in a candy vending machine at the local supermarket in a vain attempt to get a gumball without paying.
One time I tore a dollar in half to buy a 50 cent popsicle.
I wore plaid pants to school once in second grade and totally shouldn't have.
I once believed that not only color television, but color itself, was invented in the late 1950s.
I had a crush on Katie, my "dream girl", but she thought I was gross.
One Saturday morning when I was three I decided I wanted Jiffy-Pop, but I couldn't read so I didn't take the paper top off and almost set the kitchen on fire while my siblings watched cartoons and my parents slept in.
when I was five I wanted to climb the wall like Spider-Man, but gashed my big toe on a screw in the wall and bled alot, thinking "I bet this never happened to Spidey."
I broke my shoulder in kindergarten because my friend convinced me that the lawn chairs 4 feet down from the tree house would be ample cushion for me land on.
life was so much simpler when i could go peeling through the neighborhood on my bmx bike, topless, with all the boys and not feel an ounce of embarassment, then puberty came and messed everything up.
One time, when I was four, I stood between the electronic doors at the supermarket waving goodbye to all the departing shoppers when suddenly one of the doors closed on my wrist.
One summer vacation, I walked down the pier at Lake Geneva and accidentally fell into the water.
I tend to remember a time when I was DRAGGED into a tree in our backyard.