The first memory I have is getting in trouble for eating dog food. It was a hot summer day in the good ole state of Utah, and I was toddling around the backyard in nothing but the my diaper. I remember standing over the stainless steel mixing bowls that my mom used for our dog Skips food and water, the little handles on the side dinging against the bowl as my chubby little hands grasped at chunks of dry food. I shoved a handful in my mouth, drool spilling down my chin and onto my naked 2 year old belly. The next thing I know, my brothers friend is knocking on the sliding glass door, beckoning to my mom. "Sister Peterson!" (that's what Mormons call the adults: Sister/Brother insert-last-name-here) he exclaimed, "That baby is eating dog food!" I remember feeling ashamed or embarrassed and that's the end of the memory. Apparently I really liked the taste because I continued to get caught eating Skips food.
NO WAIT. That's not my first memory. I actually remember what it feels like to have Desitin put on my butt. I hated that slippery slidey feeling between my cheeks. Bleh.
NO WAIT. That's not my first memory. I actually remember what it feels like to have Desitin put on my butt. I hated that slippery slidey feeling between my cheeks. Bleh.
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