Day 25: December 31, 1971

And, so ends my time in the year 1971 - 25 days. This was the shortest year I will ever live, and yet the year wherein I may have accomplished the most. I emerged relatively intact (despite a slightly torpedo-shaped head, which the docs have assured my Dad will squash out nicely long before the torment of adolescence makes it unbearable - just in case though he's looking at hats and thinking about the swim team). My gastronomic taste has gone from colostrum to breast milk, and I have successfully imprinted on my parents who will shoulder much of the blame for my progress (or lack thereof) for the next 20 or so years...