One of my first strong memories is of going to see Santa at K-Mart in Greensboro when I was 4? My mom (and my younger sister probably) were walking to see him and the little red ball I was carrying fell out of my hands and rolled under a bench. I crawled under to get it and stood up and whacked my head on a bolt and ended up in the emergency room for 3 stitches in my temple. I still have the scar. I don’t know if that incident had anything to do with it but the idea of sitting in a strange old man’s lap and telling him what I want still creeps me out.
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