I’m not really sure why I remember this, maybe because it was such a shocking experience at the time, or possibly because I was mocked mercilessly for it later in my life. When I was about five, I decided to make myself a peanut butter and honey sandwich, which is still my favorite kind of sandwich today. I had already spread the peanut butter on one slice of bread, and was beginning to spread the honey on the other slice, when I saw a drip of honey fall toward the floor. When I looked down, I saw that the honey had landed on my leg. After trying to wipe it off, without success, I realized that they honey had stained a spot on my leg.
Well, for years I believed that I simply had a honey stain on my leg. When I was about twelve and I related my story and the belief I had held for years to my mom, she started to laugh, and informed me that, in fact, I did not have a honey stained leg, but an oval birthmark that had been there, well, since birth. How was I to know what a birth mark was, especially since I hadn’t ever noticed it before that fateful day with the honey?