cleaning up

My preschool report card never fails to amuse me. I could do most everything (string beads, use scissors, understand that other children have private property that doesn't belong to me, name colors, and so forth).

Here's what I couldn't do:
Skip
Hold a pencil correctly
Speak in front of a group (very shy)
Speak clearly (talks too fast)

I could evidently count to 69 (apparently, my corruption began early) and I could write numbers, but I wrote 2 backwards and 4 "out of shape."

And that's all.

Pre-kindergarten was a weird time.

edit: In kindgergarten, I could do most everything most of the time, but I still couldn't skip, and I had trouble with holding and using a crayon correctly (though apparently I'd perfected the art of pencil use), tracing a line, and cutting with scissors. And I couldn't tie knots or say the word "ankle."

Poems, age almost 6:
Poems are to Say
Song are to Sing
Books are to Read
You are to Love

Breath is to breathe
Eyes are to see
Noses are to smell
A Heart is to Love
[weird capitalization is my mom's fault, not some weird pseudo- Emily Dickinsonion affectation]

shameful discoveries

(obviously, I should wake up later. I'm spamming my friends' lists with the contents of my bedroom)

Anyhow, I found my Mary Sue fic! Yay! Apparently, everyone has a deep dark secret collection of violet-eyed heroines who go by two names (to my credit, there's a reason all my self-insertions have two names. How else am I going to identify them as RE clones?) Still, it's deeply shaming.

TIRED.