Digi-Scene

Age 1: Threw my bottle of milk from the crib, refusing to drink milk in that way anymore. I preferred a shot glass.

Age 2: My sister is born. Thus begins a decade of matching outfits and haircuts (I'm the one in the photos who is never wearing pink).

Age 3: Had my tonsils removed. Learned that complaining loudly that my throat hurt would get me Grandpa's sympathy and lots of ice cream.

Age 4: I still believe in Santa Claus even though I recognize my Mom's handwriting on the note "he" left with the new handmade Barbie clothes. I didn't consider that being gullible, I considered it being pragmatic.

Age 5: Thanks to Mom this is the last time I had long hair until I was in my 40's. Hint: Mia Farrow may have looked really sophisticated in that pixie haircut, but I had lost my front teeth and I had freckles. I didn't look sophisticated, I looked like a little boy.

Age 6: For my birthday, I received a purple bicycle with long handlebars and a banana seat. My parents didn't see me for years after that. Freedom!

Age 7: Fito gave me a ring and became my boyfriend. I broke the ring when I used it to play hopscotch. We broke up after recess.

Age 8: Got baptized. Having never seen a baptism, I was concerned that I would drown as I thought that Dad would say the prayer while I was under water and I knew how long my Dad's prayers could be.

Age 9: Didn't learn a damn thing in school during this year. Wait, I did learn that teachers can be extremely crappy at their job and nobody believes little kids when they tell you that.

Age 10: I wrote an essay for Mrs. Taggert that forever changed my perception of myself. Thank you Mrs. Taggert for recognizing that little girl and her feelings.

*The idea for this post came from Maggie Mason's blog.