Little Dickie Cheney's mother could never keep track of that child.

Little Denny Kucinich kept sneaking snacks from the broccoli jar.

Little Georgie Bush tore up the neighbor's garden because his best friends told him the Great Pumpkin was hidden in it.

This week's contest: If we only knew then . . . As The Style Invitational turns 11 years old today, up-and-coming Loser Erika Reinfeld of Somerville, Mass., suggests that you tell us about certain people's childhood experiences and behaviors that hint at their destinies, as in the examples above.

First-prize winner receives the Inker, the official Style Invitational Trophy. First runner-up wins a copy of the fine book "Wind Breaks: Coming to Terms With Flatulence." Other runners-up win the coveted Style Invitational Loser T-shirt. Honorable mentions get one of the lusted-after Style Invitational Magnets. One prize per entrant per week. Send your entries via fax to 202-334-4312 or by e- mail to losers@washpost.com. Snail-mail entries are not accepted. Deadline is Monday, March 15. Put the week number in the subject line of your e-mail, or you risk being ignored as spam. Include your name, postal address and phone number with your entry. Contests are judged on the basis of humor and originality. All entries become the property of The Washington Post. Entries may be edited for taste or content. Results will be published April 4. No purchase required for entry. Employees of The Washington Post, and their immediate relatives, are not eligible for prizes. Pseudonymous entries will be disqualified. The revised title for next week's contest is by Joseph Romm of Washington.

Report from Week 544, in which we asked for Valentine's sentiments from one particular person to another:

{diam}Third runner-up:

From Poseidon to Medusa:

Oh, how I'd love to run my fingers through your snakes.

(Lloyd Duvall, Roslyn, Pa.)

{diam}Second runner-up: Yrs.,

-- Calvin Coolidge to wife Grace

(Tom Kreitzberg, Silver Spring)

{diam}First runner-up, the winner of the Frederick's of Hollywood teddy:

Laura Bush to Jacques Chirac:

The courtly way you kissed my hand,

The media were all agog!

Though, Valentine, I always thought

The lady had to kiss the frog.

(Brendan Beary, Great Mills)

{diam}And the winner of the Inker:

A Valentine, some hugs and pecks,

A night of wild, illicit sex.

As your pastor, I must say,

Miss Prynne, you've earned yourself an A.

(Chris Doyle, Forsyth, Mo.)

{diam}Honorable Mentions:

From Michael Jackson:

Your face upon my pillows

Was angelic; it's amid

My memories of Neverland --

Here's looking at you, kid.

(Bob Dalton, Arlington)

Joey Buttafuoco to Amy Fisher:

Hey, baby, wanna give it another shot? (Mark Young, Washington)

To Alice from Ralph:

Between my fits of apoplexy

I find your kisser rather sexy.

(Milo Sauer, Fairfax)

In three days I return from war,

My Josephine to savor,

Ah, ma cherie, please bathe no more:

I like a lot of flavor.

-- Napoleon

(Arthur Litoff, York Springs, Pa.)

To Sir, with love, Marcie

(Erika Reinfeld, Somerville, Mass.)

Dearest Elizabeth, I've won you,

My heart would yearn for no other,

But promise me, at Pemberley,

You'll keep me safe from your mother.

Yrs, Fitzwilliam Darcy

(Jane Auerbach, Los Angeles)

To Vincent van Gogh from his girlfriend

Rachel:

If you would be my Valentine, I would give you my heart, love. What will you give me?

(Charles Star, New York)

Mary Matalin to James Carville:

Your reptile face, your Creole drawl,

Like some crude yokel from the sticks --

You'd still be my strange bedfellow

Regardless of your politics.

(Brendan Beary)

Yo, Desdemona -- Up for a little hankie-panky?

-- Othello

(Bill Spencer, Exeter, N.H.)

From Juliet to Romeo, and vice versa:

KaPuLet14: omg, ur a qt

montadude: i want some booty

(Erika Reinfeld)

Auguste Renoir to Rosie O'Donnell:

O! ma cherie, I shall paint you all mooshy,

So no one will know you're tres grande in the tushie.

(Mary Ann Henningsen, Hayward, Calif.)

Robert Browning to Elizabeth Barrett

Browning:

Sure, happy Valentine's Day. Look, I'm trying to watch the game. Just give me the final total, okay?

(Roy Ashley, Washington)

You two naughty boys, you Watson and Crick,

Now come over here, and show me right quick!

Let's add to that double and make it a triple,

We'll twist us together with nary a ripple.

Your hogging the credit, it sure still is ranklin',

But let's drop it tonight -- Love, Rosalind Franklin

(Mike Connaghan, Alexandria)

To J from J:

You gave my career a new chance

While the prudes, at my boob, looked askance.

So give me a call

When your own ratings fall,

And I'll reach out and pull down your pants.

(Walt Johnston, Woodstock, Md.)

The ark is astir on this Valentine's Day.

An animal's missing, I'm sorry to say.

A gerbil, perhaps, but that still needs confirming.

Noah, my sweetie-pooh, why are you squirming?

(Chris Doyle)

Ken, my old friend, we're finished, it's clear,

After 43 years, it's over between us.

Not only didn't you have a career,

They'd even forgotten to give you a decent haircut.

(Mel Loftus, Holmen, Wis.; Marty McCullen, Gettysburg, Pa.)

From Kermit to Miss Piggy:

My love for you is sugar-cured,

You stop my heart from achin'.

It's even easy being green

When I bring home the bacon.

(Phyllis Reinhard, East Fallowfield, Pa.)

At last you're king, at last I'm queen,

(Let's not dwell on how);

And no man born of woman will

Separate us now.

With sound and fury, Lady Macbeth

(Tom Kreitzberg)

For Valentine's, my dear Clarice,

I hope you'll offer me your heart.

But I would settle for a piece

Of any other body part.

-- Hannibal

(John Holder, Rock Hill, S.C.)

And last:

Hey, Czar of The Style Invitational.

You got Losers to tremble and fear ya.

As Empress, I'm more inspirational:

Happy Valentine's Day in Siberia.

(Chris Doyle)