When I was 4 or 5, I was at the circus with my grandmother, mother, brother and great aunt. Being 5, I always had something on my face-drool, boogers, cotton candy, got milk, cat hair, leaves, lipstick-whatever. My grandmother had an emergency cleaning kit at the ready.
She'd reach into her purse, pull out a kleenex that had been in there since Jesus came over on the Mayflower, unroll/unfold the thing to a sufficient size, hork on it, then attempt to wipe my face with the thing.
Even at 5 years old I understood germ theory. To this day I have no Kleenex in the house. When I a Kleenex, I turn and run. It was tougher when I was younger, but after years of intensive therapy, I'm doing much better, started talking again, and the tremors are hardly noticable.
Sometimes it comes back:
"MeMe, NO!" (pronounced maymay, or maim'ee to us kids)
Discaimer: smiley denotes humor in the story through artistic license which allowed the addition of the therapist through the tremors. No actual 5 year olds were injured in the telling of this story.
If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on a human face--for ever."
-George Orwell, 1984
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twenty centuries of stony sleep were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, and what rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
-George Yeats