When I was kid, I had motor control problems, and I still have never quite mastered the art of using scissors, tying shoes or holding a pencil. I have a writing callous on my ring finger to prove it.I was also the kid who ran around the neighborhood with kool aid stains around his mouth and sometimes I did truly bad things. Truly rotten things.After class in kindergarten, while I was waiting for my mom to pick me up, fifth graders would make fun of me by asking me questions about presidential trivia. I didn't realize that they were making fun of me. I still have that problem. People will humor me to no end for their own amusement, and I never know it until after the fact.Really, it's hard to find many ways in which I am different from how I was when I was four years old. My eyes have changed from blue to green, my hair from straight blond to wavy brown, and I've gotten a little bit taller. Actually, a whole lot taller. Sometimes I wonder, looking back at pictures of myself when I was a little kid and wonder if, in fact, that is the same person. I only remember pictures of and stories about the distant past, and I would be hard-pressed to find any way to prove it, unless I pick up a pair of scissors or a pen, or try to tie my shoes.