Brian Doyle is easily one of my favorite writers. When I found this little essay of his, I laughed out loud all the way through.

“Age one: Pat the Bunny. Arguably the most intimate reading experience of your lifetime. Read it every night with your parents. Where’s the bunny? There’s the bunny!”

“Age two. Reread Pat the Bunny. Try not to eat the pages this time. Write a paper of no fewer than three pages (single-spaced) on … the whole peekaboo blanket thing — does Homeland Security know?”

Doyle lists books and commentary on all those developmental years: “Age three: read Goodnight Moon while listening to Courtney Love on your headphones….” “Age four: you can ease up a little this year, go on cruise control. Ronald Reagan’s letters, the speeches of Marcel Marceau…”

Et cetera.

“Age twenty-two: Scotland, that moist mud puddle north of Manchester! Now that you are legally able to imbibe the whiskey of life, do so on January 25, celebrating Robbie Burns, while reading Robbie Burns aloud until the wee hours, in the company of lots of your friends. Do not eat haggis. Haggis is disgusting….

I stopped there, thinking about our upcoming Burns celebration. I’ve got the haggis and people had better eat it. The question is, should I bring whisky?