Well, I remember going to a picnic with my dad, and going home with my mom…
nah, just kidding.
Maybe two years old, when we were living in Gustine, California, standing on our lawn on the 4th of July, watching black snake fireworks burn in the gutter.
We had a floor furnace back at my house in Kentucky. It was right smack in the middle of the house: you had to cross it to get to either bedroom or the bathroom. Good times. No telling how many pairs of tennis shoes ended up with that crosshatch pattern on them.
First thing I remember is hurling all over the egg donor’s pillow. Apparently, the family had made a trip to see my great-aunt in Indianapolis. I got severely carsick back then, so the trip was pretty miserable. Anyway, when we got there, she and I had to share a bed. From what I was told about this incident, she heard a voice in her dreams, saying, “Get up!” She sat up in bed, and as soon as she cleared the pillow, I covered it again. I was 2, almost 3.
I have a vague memory of my first birthday. I was sitting at the kitchen table, neatly eating a piece of cake with a knife and fork, and getting every last morsel into my mouth.
A picture of the event confirms every detail that I remembered, except that some joker photoshopped it to make me look like a complete slob.
I have the same problem. I can’t remember much of anything before 5 or 6 and I’m not sure how many of those are actual memories or memories I’ve invented because events were described to me so many times.
Same here, and I’d hate to fall into a the trap my brother fell into once, when he claimed he remembered when I was born.
I’m 2 years and 341 days older than he is. To be fair, he was probably only 6 or 7 when he made that statement, but we still rib him about it.