abacus, Canon Digital Rebel XTi

This post is inspired by Mighty Girl and her awesome book.

My first decade (from age 3):
Age 3: Preschool. Had a friend who was a boy. One day I saw him head into the bathroom and sit on the toilet. I was totally confused. Why would he be sitting down on the toilet? Boys went potty standing up. I confronted him in the stall: “I thought you were a boy!” I exclaimed, feeling betrayed. He never spoke to me again after that.

Age 4: Was mesmerized by the beautiful bright orangey red coils on the electric stove. Decided I needed to touch them.. Had huge bandages on my hand for many months after.

Age 5: Wanted so badly to slide down the railings on our staircase at home but was too afraid.

Age 6: Tried to bend spoons with my mind.

Age 7: Used to play a game with my dad at the stoplights where we would guess when the light was going to turn green. “Okay… now!” “…. Now!” I could never figure out how he was so good at it and guessed right every time. I thought he must be psychic.

Age 8: Woke up in the middle of the night freezing cold. My bed was completely stripped. In the corner of my room in a perfect stack were my sheets, my blankets, my pillow and my teddy bear sitting on the top of the pile. I was still too small to have been able to do this myself with such perfection. After interrogating my family the next morning and them not knowing what I was talking about, I started to believe in ghosts.

Age 9: My best friend was mad at me and said I looked like a monkey. I was devastated, ran to the bathroom mirror, decided she was right and pulled my hair out of the ponytail it was in. I wouldn’t wear my hair in a ponytail again for about 20 years.

Age 10: Read a poem in class that mentioned a moon the size of a fignernail. The teacher asked what this could mean. Everyone was stumped, but I got it instantly. “If you hold your thumb up to the sky, it is exactly the same size as the moon!” I remember thinking that there was a way I saw the world that felt unique and creative (maybe even like a poet or artist I imagined) and that I loved this part of myself.