Here’s an idea from Margaret Mason, the inimitable
Mighty Girl. To me, this is fun to do if you don’t give it a lot of thought. Put down the first couple of things that come to mind when you think of each year or grade. Don’t edit yourself—just enjoy your trip down memory lane. Or cringe all over again at embarrassing things you did.
My first decade:
Age 1: The hair all over my hair sticks up so startlingly and constantly that a neighbor calls me Frankenstein Baby, which makes my Aunt Maggie furious.
Age 2: I have an adorable sailor bathing suit and my hair is still awesome.
Age 3: I love to play on the swing set. One day I drop a strawberry ice cream cone outside. I can still see it there, sad and melting on the ground.
Age 4. My mom is pregnant with a sibling. She looks like she has an actual basketball under her shirt. The baby will turn out to be my sister Amy. They ask me for name suggestions, and I say “Lisa,” which they dismiss immediately.
Age 5: I am in Kindergarten, having started at 4. My best friend is a girl named Angie Pickens, who is beautiful, and I wear lots of stripes. The lunchroom in my school is huge.
Age 6: First grade is interesting but perilous. I am learning to read, and Mrs. Simms, competent but stern, spanks me for watching the classroom toilet overflow.
Age 7: I stand up in front of my second-grade class to “share” about the book
Heidi, which I haven’t actually read. Excellent preparation for grad school.
Age 8: I correct my third-grade teacher’s pronunciation of Halley’s comet, because I am insufferable. A girl named Michelle and I share Norman Ellis as our boyfriend, and we choreograph a dance to Devo’s “Whip It.” I also write my first poem, which now makes its world debut:
Spring is here
The days are warm
The flowers are in bloom;
The trees all have their new green leaves
And there’s no cause for gloom.
Age 9: Still insufferable, I win every weekly spelling bee in the 4th grade. I host my first slumber party for my birthday. We are all engrossed in
Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret.
Age 10: Remember "prairie" skirts? I wear one on the first day of school. Tana Vollendorf, who is tan and beautiful, tells me, “I’m tired of being popular. This year I’m just going to be friends with you.” Hmm, okay. Also that year I learn what “sycophant” means, because my dad says my math teacher is one.
The next year, I will kiss Scott Martin while riding in his go-cart, which I regret to this day, and not only because he turned into an actual felon.
Now you go.
That's the Valentine card Hank would design if he had computer privileges. This is fun: You can do your own little Valentine images at ObamiconMe, the site that lets you make Shepherd Fairey-esque posters, in the style of the Obama "Hope" image. Remember those?
If you haven't gotten a card in the mail to a far-flung friend, why not make a little picture of her, or of the two of you together, and email it? Definitely cuter than those noisemaking ecards. Just one matron's opinion. 
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