When I was very small I never wanted to go to England because if you disagreed with the king he’d chop off your head. (Of course, there had been no king for a long, long time before I was born.)
I used to think that Communism meant that nobody was allowed to own anything. If I was playing with a toy, then anyone could come up and take it from me so he could play with it, even if I wasn’t finished.
We were going to spend the night at my grandmother’s house. I asked her for a knife, because I thought we went there to “spin the knife”.
I used to think that the oldest person always died first. My best friend at the time used to lord it over me that he was five days older than I. I countered that that just meant that he was going to die five days sooner. I also had it figured out that since dad was the oldest, he’d die first and my mom and my sister and I would have a funeral for him. My mom would go next, and my sister and I would see to her rites. My sister was next in line, and I would hold a funeral for her. But being the youngest, there would be no one left to bury me. Then I realized that I would grow up and get married and… Oh. Wait a minute…
I used to think dogs could understand the human language. When my mother saw me speaking Japanese to a dog at the O-Club in Japan, I had to explain to her that I was speaking Japanese to it because it was a Japanese dog.
When I was little, I thought girls were icky. (But there’s photographic evidence of me and a girl kissing when we were three.)
My overturned stool really was a rocket ship, and my plush snake toy would burn its tail if it wasn’t careful.