Age 1: I sleep all day and cry all night... or at least that is what my mama told me.
Age 2: I'm apparently the cutest baby on the planet... or at least that is what my older brother told me.
Age 3: I have a best friend named Alison. With just one L.
Age 4: I play alone a lot of the time... One day when we lived in Tampa, Florida I find myself sitting in my father's MG in the driveway and somehow release the emergency brake and back out onto the road. Apparently, not much supervising going on from the parental units.
Age 5: My mom cuts my hair "Pixie" style because, SHE thinks it's cute. At restaurants waiters constantly ask "Would the BOYS like milk with dinner?"
Age 6: I learn to swim and ride a bike. By myself. Again the parentals are MIA.
Age 7: For Halloween my mom makes my costume. I was a clown. We were living in an Extended Stay in Laguna Beach, CA while we waited for our house to be built. My mom thought the neighborhood wasn't safe what with all the Hare Krishna's roaming the streets, so she wouldn't allow for us to go out Trick or Treating. Instead, she made us knock on the adjoining door between my parents hotel room and me and my brother's room. Each time we would knock, she would open the door dressed differently; Once as an old woman, once as an old man, once as a Flight Attendant, and once as a 20's Flapper. How clever was she?
Age 8: I don't like to wear underwear. Ever. One day at school while on the monkey bars, my pantsuit rips and my nether regions are introduced to the entire 3rd grade.
Age 9: I smoke a cigarette for the first time on my 9th Birthday at the movie theater with my "much older" cousin Laura. The movie we saw was Paper Moon. I wanted to be just like Addie Pray. "Daddy, I gotta go to the Shit House..."
Age 10: I have a pet Guinea Pig named Bernie. He's pretty nice. I kill him. He died of a disease called "Wet Bottom." Apparently, I wasn't so good at keeping his cage clean.