I am born. I’m not thrilled about it. Two weeks overdue and another twenty hours of crimson labor later, I am at last evicted from the womb, a whopping ten-pounder. My mother is whisked into surgery to quell the hemorrhaging. I nearly kill her, though our relationship soon makes a full recovery.

I am a plump, juicy baby, with apple-red cheeks ripe for the pinching. I am amiable to such, emitting soft chuckles and minimal drool. A pumpkin head as it is, I gobble up carrots and sweet potatoes until my skin turns orange. When my mother presents me to her hippie Greenwich Village coterie, I am whirled about the room like a doobie. Fittingly, my pet name among this psychedelic coven of fake aunts is Oobie.

I remain attached to my mother. My umbilical cord continues to grow, as though to reforge the link. I return to my place of birth to have it singed off. My sister skips on the walk from the car because she thinks my mother is returning me. I demonstrate Houdini-level escape artistry from the rickety bars of my crib. When the witching hour strikes, I toss my teddy bears out like grenades, then roll over the railing and announce my freedom with a carpeted thud. Erik’s up.

I require round-the-clock monitoring as I enjoy tumbling down the stairs as a hobby. When the babysitter drops her guard, I boulder down and conk my noggin on the corner of the fireplace, resulting in a tornado scar above my brow and a new babysitter.

I am fond of big swords, referred to as Big Fords, and thread one through the waist of my diaper in knightly fashion. My mother hides the swords in the trunk of her car if and when I misuse them. When she drops her guard, I tear down the street on my Big Wheel in a diaper and work boots, a sword dragging behind like a busted tailpipe. My neighbor phones my mother: He got loose again.

One August afternoon, my mother discovers thawing pea packets and oozing tubs of iced cream strewn about the checkered kitchen tile. When she swings wide the freezer door, there I am, with icicle boogers and chittering blue Chiclets. 

I giggle. She gulps.