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Sweet Johnny!

I don't know how old I was when I learned that you can staple yourself. I do, on the other hand, remember where I was when this epiphany struck me. I could not have been more than seven standing in the dining room while I injured myself. I can't tell you why I had a stapler. Perhaps getting into things I shouldn't. Or perhaps I had good reason to be stapling myself. Either way, the truth evades me. I can't recall if I screamed or cried, or if I was very calm. I only know that my mom, ever my hero, rescued me. I can't even tell you if she chastised me, but that could've been a clue to why I had the stapler in the first place had she done so. The next part is what remains so memorable to me. It is just like my mother to have the perfect treasure hidden away for such traumatic times. Out she comes with a paper doll kit! Maybe the cling-on kind or maybe the heavy punch-out paper where you fold the tabs. She always knows how to make me feel better.