I'm the youngest of 5 kids in the family. When I was one year old I grabbed a glass and started to run away drinking whatever was in it. I fell and the glass shattered and cut me from the lip up to my nose.
I'm told that my mother had to get my older brother and 2 older sisters into the car while holding my lip shut on the way to the hospital. If she let go it would spurt out all over her.
When she reached the hospital the nurses asked where she was hurt since she was cover in my blood. Meanwhile, my oldest sister came home from school and was horrified to find an empty house and blood all over the kitchen... I think it traumatized her for life.
Personally, I don't remember any of it, but my brother sticks by this story. According to him, I saw the glass and yelled, "Beer!" and took off running. He may be right – to this day the taste of beer makes me nauseous.
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