My name is Emily. I am this many...I mean, I am five. And two months.
That means there are ten more months till my birthday comes again.

Mommy says I should be going to school this year. To 'kindergarten.'
Kindergarten, kindergarten, kindergarten...it sounds like singing.
Mommy says, when she went to kindergarten, there were a lot of other
little kids there. And she got to cut up colored paper with scissors
that were just for kids, and stick stuff together with 'paste.' Paste
is white and gooey. Mommy says her brother Fox said it was made out of 
milk and cowfeet, but I think she was teasing. Mommy said that Fox 
didn't get to go to kindergarten when he was five, because Fox didn't
turn five until after school started. Fox was really mad because he
couldn't go to school.

I wish I could go to school. My birthday is before school starts. I
just had my birthday. It was fun, but I wish I could have had a cake.

I don't remember when I was born or when I was a baby. But I remember 
when I turned three. I got lots of presents, like my Raggedy Anne that
had curly red hair and was all floppy. And there were candles on my 
cake, three little ones that I counted. My mommy brought it out of the
kitchen all lit up, and my mommy and daddy sang "Happy Birthday" to me,
and my daddy told me to blow out the candles and got ready to take a
picture. 

But. I wanted to blow all the candles out with one blow, so I leaned
over real close to them before I blew. And one of the little fire 
things licked me like a puppy, right on my chin. And it hurt. 

I jumped back. I almost knocked the cake over, but I didn't. My 
mommy and daddy were real scared and they looked at me to make sure
I was all right. Then my mommy remembered the candles and blew them
out, but the candles had melted onto the cake a lot. So my mommy had
to fix the cake, and my daddy took me to the bathroom and looked at 
my chin and put medicine on it to fix it. So I was okay, and my mommy 
and daddy and I all ate cake and ice cream. But I never got to really
make my wish.

I was going to wish that I would get well, and that my mommy and daddy 
wouldn't have to take me to doctors anymore. That was all I thought
about then. But I guess I was a little kid then, and I didn't know to
be glad about what I had.

Now I wish I'd never said anything to my mommy and daddy. Maybe if
I never had cried when the nurses stuck me with needles, maybe they
would still be here.

Maybe, maybe, maybe. Pretty dumb, huh? 

I had a birthday when I was four. I didn't know it was my birthday
at first. I was a little kid then, and I didn't know to scratch marks
for the days like Mommy does. But one of the changey people got me
a cupcake and put a little match in it. It burned real fast, so I
had to blow it out real fast, too. But I didn't have to blow too 
hard, either. The changey man didn't know how to sing "Happy Birthday",
though. I sang "Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me" all by 
myself before I ate the cupcake.

There weren't any presents, though. Just more shots.

This birthday, there wasn't any cake, but there were presents. Mommy
gave me a comb, and a little bag to keep things in that went around
my neck. It was cool. Whatever shape I changed to, I could still
have my bag! How did Mommy know it would be so handy?  

I put the comb in the bag, with a neat-looking stone I had just found 
and a shell. I think it is a lucky shell, but I don't know. Maybe 
lucky things have just been happening at the same time I have the 
shell. If unlucky things happen, I'll know it's not a lucky shell 
after all.