Answer by Raakhee V. Menon:
No kidding. And I still do it. Mom says that I was a very quiet baby. Hardly ever cried. Never did anything naughty. Sometimes she’d leave me in the room with my toys for five or ten minutes to check on something in the kitchen, and when she got back, I’d be either still sitting exactly where she’d left me, or I’d have lied down and fallen asleep at the same spot.
The only place I used to wander off to was behind the front door, where there was a patch of paint that had peeled slightly. Mom says I used to crawl on all fours, sit there and quietly scratch the paint off the wall. I’d sit there for hours doing the same thing. If I wasn’t seen where Mom had left me, there was only one other place to look 😛 I had this weird attraction to scratching out anything that could be scratched out. Paint on walls. Paint on the back of cinema hall chairs. Price tag stickers. Labels. Anything. I never used to draw on walls like most other kids at that age used to do. But I just couldn’t resist pulling out an unruly patch of paint.
I still find myself scratching surfaces without realizing it. Now I peel off labels from jars and bottles, price tags, and whenever I see it, even paint 😀 If my hand is resting on a surface and if I feel some disturbance under my fingers, the immediate instinct is to scratch it until it feels smooth to touch 😀 I don’t know what weird happiness I get out of this. Maybe I’m just weird 😀