Some people here remember their crib days which is unusual. Me, I remember my waking moment clearly. Our mother was nursing me and she nudged me away, saying I was biting her. So I must have been close to two years old. Our mother used to nurse a child even when she was already pregnant with another one. I clearly remember my immediate younger brother as an infant and who was two an a half years younger than me.I also had primary complex at that time so I remember doctors and examination tables.
I was being babysat and I was eating lunch. This must have been when I was late 3 or early 4. There was mac and cheese but it was the Velveeta kind, not the Kraft junk, so it was very rare and fancy to me.
Two girls sat across the table from me.
“Look at her” The first girl pointed to the second one. I turned my head.
“No look at her!” The second girl giggled and pointed to the first girl and again I turned my head. Repeat a couple dozen times. I liked that I was making the girls laugh and happy so that’s why I kept doing it. It’s kind of crazy how straightforward and uncomplicated the feelings in my first memories are, so simple.
I got bumped off a porch by a Christmas tree when I was just older than 2.
The porch had seemed very high up until I fell off it, and even while falling it seemed I fell a long time.
But I landed flat, didn’t get hurt or even disoriented- I hopped back up and continued ‘helping’ with the tree.
When we got a new car, driving in with our green Plymouth and driving out with a blue one. No idea how young it was, but certainly no more than 5.
I remember my Grandma’ putting me in the kitchen sink to give me a bath. I was terrified.
I was drinking soda, probably my first time ever–couldn’t have been more than two or three. My brother made me laugh, and I snarfed Coke out my nose.
I was about 2 (circa 1955/1956). We’d just gotten our first TV. I remember watching the point of light in the center of the screen brighten and slowly grow to form a picture covering the whole the screen.
My brother hitting me in the face with a hammer, narrowly missing taking my eye out. It was my own fault, I will admit- he was hitting something and I leant over his shoulder to see what he was doing, and thwack. I was about 2.5 I think.
This fact is brilliant for guilt tripping him, incidently 
Here come all of the memories from people who remember not just their crib days but days before language, when they were just born, hell days from inside the WOMB!
Me, I have no memories from before age 5. I came to the States at age 4, and the resultant language and culture shock probably drove everything before that out of my head. It’s a pity.
I remember a warm, dark place … but I’m pretty sure it was my bedroom closet. I friggin’ loved it in there.
I remember my mother opening up a kitchen cabinet and, on the top shelf, I saw a row of old baby bottles. I recognized them as mine and felt pride that I didn’t use those any more, I used a cup.
I’m guessing I was 2 or 3 – old enough to be using a cup but young enough that my mother hadn’t thrown the bottles away yet.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had a distinct mental ‘visual image’ of being on something that was moving and seeing snow out of the window. My mother told me that could only have happened when I was about 10 months old.
We had taken a trip by train up to Colorado to see my Dad when he was in basic training for the Army.
(bolding mine)
Just out of curiosity, what is ‘primary complex’? 
nm…
Google says it is a term used to refer to ‘Tuberculosis in children’.
I’ve never heard that term (primary complex) used before.
I remember throwing a snowball at my dad at a house we moved away from just after my third birthday, in July. So I was about two and a half.
I have a couple of distinct memories from the two-flat which we lived in until just before my third birthday. When I’ve described the visuals of these memories to my parents, they’ve confirmed that I at least have the layout of the house right, so I’m reasonably confident that they’re real memories, and not something that my brain fabricated later. 
- Playing with a “safari” toy (a metal truck and trailer, with various plastic animals) under the Christmas tree. I received this toy for Christmas when I was 2, going on 3.
- Following my father into the kitchen, because he was going to make a milkshake for me.
- Sitting on the floor, in front of the TV, as my parents watched the news (reasonably certain that they were watching the “Huntley-Brinkley Report” on NBC).
Four is the earliest memory I can come up with based on a dog we had that died before I was 5. For the most part my memory seems to kick in around 5. After my divorce at 41 years old my early memories started erasing themselves very quickly. Now I mostly just remember that I used to remember.
Just shy of a year old.
We lived in an old apartment building when I was born, and there was a large greenhouse across the street. I’m sitting in an old brown wicker stroller; parts of it are worn, and some of the wicker is sticking out. Between the sidewalk and the greenhouse is a koi pond. crossing the pond is a stone walkway leading to the greenhouse. Someone is pushing the stroller across the walkway, and I look in both directions at the fish.
We moved from that apartment when I was just shy of 1 year old, and we never went back. I have told this memory to both my mother and my aunt, and they corroborated the details.
I vaguely remember my 3rd birthday, and by vaguely, I mean I remember we were around the dining room table and there were yellow place mats. That’s all I recall. Other than that, I don’t really remember anything that happened before I was 4.
I remember being in my preschool class at age 4 or 5. A fellow classmate, a girl, was sitting on a bean bag inside of a plastic, car-shaped fort. I joined her on the bean bag, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
An odd first memory for a gay man.
I remember playing with my sisters cat, I would have been about 2 and a half. I vaguely remember my sister, she died shortly after that. I didn’t see her much in her last year of life, she was back in the US at Sloan Kettering - she was one of the experimental steroid treatment cases for leukemia. The only reason my brother and I got to fly back and forth from Germany at the time was the ability to fly MAC. I can remember doing a winter short hop wrapped in a sleeping bag because there was very little concern given to the people hitching a lift with the cargo in a gooney bird. You sort of kept hopping between bases as space was available. Back in the day the military wasn’t as invested in all new spiffy matching equipment, you could find all sorts of archaic aircraft used to fill in gaps in flight operations that were supply and personnel rather than combat operations.
I can remember sitting in the window of the Canadian summer house belonging to my Grandfather watching sheets of lightening over the cove silhouetting a sailboat moored next to my Grandfathers sailboat and a bolt striking the oak tree that was about 15-20 feet away from the corner of the house and huge sheets of water coming in the now broken window just bare feet away from us. My dad’s combat infantry reflexes meant that my brother and I were flung behind a sofa and ended up with nothing more than bruises. To this day I have an oddly sentimental feeling about thunder and lightening instead of being scared of them. I was 5 at the time [Dad was between postings, just getting ready to move to Saigon for his twilight tour.]