When I was three years old, I sneezed into my father's vanilla soft serve cone.

I remember because my mother and he argued about it for an hour afterwards. He didn't want to buy another ice cream cone, she wanted him to get one.

I'm not sure why I remember it so well otherwise. Or at all. It wasn't their only fight by far.

They used to argue for hours after my brother and I went to bed. I offered each of them (on separate occasions) my toy whip in case it turned violent one night. I'm sure it upset them more than their fighting upset me back then. I also overheard their half-hearted laugh when one told the other about the whip. They got a divorce shortly thereafter.

I don't remember if that was the fight that made them finally end it. I don't remember my father getting on his knees in the front yard and crying for my mother not to leave him the way she insisted he did years later when she was angry at him either. I remember sitting in the back seat of my grandmother's car and eating my uncle's extra large bag of animal crackers though --...