Bars

As far as my very first memory of being in this world, I could have followed "Mr. Bean" on his "point of light." Suddenly I found myself standing in a white prison, with tall white bars and a railing, and a very soft floor on which I could bounce up and down. It had to be a crib in mom and dad's bedroom.

I recall that I was crying (or more probably whining!) that I wanted to go too! Mom was going somewhere and leaving me in the crib. Next, I was yelling for CANDY, which isn't too surprising, and mom was reassuring me that if I'd be good, she'd bring back some for me. That probably satisfied me for a while, but the next thing I remember was that I decided to get out of that white prison.

I couldn't get up over the railing, but after some squeezing and pushing, I got my head out through the bars. Ah'h, freedom. Whoops--shoulders didn't fit, though I really tried. Nope, not gonna work. Okay, back with the head--nope, ears in the way! Finally, bruised and tired, my head hung down outside the crib until either the babysitter or mom, arrived.

Next thing I knew, my head was being pushed and pulled, and there were lots of voices yelling, "Do this, Do that," while my poor little nobbin was manipulated in a dozen twists and turns. Someone must have said, "Grease it!" because suddenly I was being covered in butter or something equally slippery--ears, nose, hair, and all. And it worked--I was finally out of there and into an equally frightening bath of soapsuds.

I was not a person to give up easily. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson. I pulled that stupid trick at least two or three times, thinking that if you got through the bars one way, you had to be able to get back! Good thing I loved the taste of butter.