If I were to base how good a childhood one had on the number of scars amassed during those years, I’d say I had a pretty fantastic childhood. I call them my battle scars and my legs and knees are peppered with them. While I would love to wear all my scars with pride and say that each has its own story worthy of an epic… they really don’t. Most of them are the result of little girl clumsiness. Childhood memory #1: excitedly running out to play with the neighbors and tripping as soon as I’m past our gate, skinning my knees. Childhood memory #2: climbing up a wall and losing my footing, grating my knees and elbows on the hollow blocks. Childhood memory #3: horsing around with my brother and him accidentally scraping a color pen (A COLOR PEN!) a little too hard on my thighs. That left a five-inch scar.