I like reminiscing with my daddy. He always tells me the most lovely stories about my childhood.

If you’ve never met me in person, or been close enough to inspect my lips, you may not notice the small scar on my lower one. But, I see it everyday when I look in the mirror and was curious about how I got it.

It seems, it’s a result of my two year old heroism — I wanted to save my mom from a hot stove. You see, she was holding me with one hand and cooking something with the other. The stove had caught fire (or something) and I instinctively jumped out of her arms to protect her from it. (At least, that’s how my dad tells it.) It resulted in me hitting my mouth on the stove and slicing it open. Then I cried and my mom needed to save me.