I remember when I was probably five-ish we were eating dinner and I had managed to completely cover myself. You know how kids are, somehow it's in the hair all the way down the front of the shirt and on the pants. My mom just looked at me, (this of course wasn't the first time I had adorned myself with such an ensemble), she said something to affect of, "we're going to have to pack you lunches of saltines and water so you won't ruin your clothes at school next year." I was horrified, the thought of being the only kid in the whole school who got a little messy when they ate was so scary to me, and what if I spilled on my pants and I couldn't call my mom so I would have wet pants all day.
When I finally got to first grade I do remember a few times kids pointing stains on my shirt, and one time my teacher did too. Nothing too traumatic... and as time has gone on I thought I had completely outgrown this little problem.
Nope. No such luck. Somehow as I enjoy my pop-tarts I manage to get a little bit of choco-goodness stuck to my forearm... Not just once or twice, almost every single time. I don't even know how that would happen. I just look down and oh, there it is.
Maybe when I'm a real grown-up I can eat pop-tarts without a problem.