(no subject)
When I was very young, probably actually too young to remember, I could fly. It’s true, at least if you believe my mother, which I do. She said she used to put me in the crib and go to the kitchen to heat a bottle and when she came back she would have to coax me down from the ceiling by wiggling the bottle back and forth while singing lullabies. Sometimes, according to her, I would fly around for hours. This is where, I believe, my irrational fear of ceiling fans comes from.