My timeline (the first decade):

Age 1: I narrowly avoid being in a car accident with my mother due to my father staying home sick for the day and keeping me with him. My poor mother skids on black ice, hits a tree, and knocks out her front teeth. If I were religious I would talk about God's plan and whatnot right here.

Age 2: My first memory- I made my grandfather a mud pie, which he actually took home with him later that evening. I packed it into one of those bright yellow I Can't Believe It's Not Butter containers. Also, I started preschool that year and every day I would stand at the "crying window" and wave goodbye to my father or grandfather as they drove off. Most of the time I was crying, as do most children who insist on waving goodbye to their parents every day.

Age 3: In preschool, my best friend was named Krista. I followed her around like a little puppy dog because she was five and very worldly, and in exchange for my consistent adoration, she once bit me on the knee (remember, biting is a very big part of preschool culture.) I don't think it's a coincidence that I have had rocky relationships with every Krista/Christa I have known since.
P.S. I don't remember, but I like to think I swiftly ended our friendship after the biting incident. Knowing me, that may not be the case.
P.P.S. Looking back, Krista was obviously a little slow as she was six before she graduated preschool. And I followed HER around? Sigh.

Age 4: My sister is born. She does not come out wearing a pink party dress as I had envisioned when my parents told me it was a girl.

Age 5: I begin kindergarten and make best friends with a Brazilian girl named Jennifer and Brock, the boy at my bus stop. Jennifer's dad and my dad become friends, while Brock's grandmother has weird boundary issues (dropping off her grandson unannounced so she could do some shopping on a Saturday morning, for instance.)

Age 6: Jennifer's mom and dad divorce and her mom takes her home to Brazil. I make friends with Nikki G., abusive friend number 2, who calls our house "quaint" and whose mom repeatedly tries coerce my dad into doing free labor for her. My grandfather dies. My first-grade teacher is a troll who insists on seating me next to the worst students in hopes that I will rub off on them (I always HATED this practice as a kid and am now ashamed to say I've structured my seating charts in the exact same way from time to time.)

Age 7: I meet one of my best friends, Donna, in Mr. Rhorke's class when I hold a coloring contest and award the prize ribbons that my very patient mother had stayed up hot-gluing for me the night before. Donna won second place. I also am recommended for the second-grade spelling bee team. We place second. I spell "apostrophe" wrong, but that's not why we didn't win. It's because Brandon A. was a sucky-ass speller and effed things up for the rest of us.

Age 8: El Nino floods our garage. I stop being friends with Ryan R. because he acted like a girl. It took me ten years to realize that I had been a little homophobe, and fourteen years later, I pay my penance by making No on 8 phone calls to undecided voters in Stockton.

Age 9: My sister is hospitalized for bladder and kidney problems and has extensive surgery. Relatives bring gifts for my sister, and give me the Little House on the Prairie boxed set for being such a good big sister. I thank them graciously and keep to myself the fact that I had plowed through the series two years earlier. I am rejected by GATE (for the first time.) Vinnie E. asks me out in a note and gives me a sample bottle of his mother's perfume. Three girls in our class form a hate club in honor of me and Donna because they are jealous of our grades and male suitors. Now that I am in my twenties, I am able to understand how flattering that is.

Age 10: I am named to the fifth-grade spelling bee team. We do not place. Brandon A. is on the team again, along with Nikki G., who mocks me for hesitantly spelling out my words (years later, my wonderful Donna beats her out for valedictorian for both our 8th and 12th grade graduations. Karma, bitch.) I meet my dear friend Wayne and immediately develop a crush. My beloved 5th grade teacher, Mr. Sayon, is diagnosed with cancer and takes a leave of absence. He's followed by a revolving door of long-term subs, including a rude old curmudgeon who would lock me out of the classroom when my bus was late and a Deidre Fitzpatrick lookalike who dropped us as soon as she was offered a real job (looking back, I don't blame her.) We meet Ms. Francisco, a fresh-out-of-college basketball-playing spunky blonde with no prior experience who whipped our class into shape and rewarded us with trips to Taco Bell in her old Volvo. I like to think I was one of her favorites. The seedling of an interest in a career in education that had been planted by Mr. Rhorke was nurtured by Ms. Francisco and her WNBA-loving awesomeness, and I decide to become a teacher. No, really.