I have a large scar smack on top of my sternum. I got it as a child, but the scar has been growing for the past fifteen years, so that now it is twice the size of the original. This is appropriate, considering how I got it. I was riding my tricycle around the courtyard we lived in when I was seven and my mom was assembling a new bed for me outside where it was light (our Communist era housing had only one large window on one side of the room) since I'd outgrown my old one. A neighbor wandered up and they began to chat, so I guess my mom was a bit distracted. I thought it'd be funny to play chicken with her and triked toward her at the highest speed a seven year old on a tricycle could manage. She was supposed to dodge, but I ended up running straight into her and the screwdriver she was holding dug into my chest a little. The scar is a reminder of my own foolishness.