From the Toybox...

[Keroin]

I love hearing about people's childhood memories. Tonight I was running through a bunch of my own and I thought it would be cool to hear from some other folks. For the purpose of this discussion, I'll define "childhood" as any time before graduating from highschool.

I'll start with a random one of mine...

When I was five, my family moved from Vancouver to the suburbs. While we had lived in the city, my mom used to look after a neighbour boy, Michael, while his mother was at work, (single mom). Michael came to live with us for our first year in the suburbs while his mom saved up some money.

It was cool having a brother and we got along most of the time but every now and then we'd squabble. (Sibling rivalry was new to me, since my sister was ten years older than me). One time, I recall, I was really, really angry at him so I grabbed my pencil and a piece of paper and wrote the worst insult my five year old brain could think of/knew how to spell. I then folded up the paper and passed it to Michael, with a very smug expression on my face.

He unfolded it but could not read it. This was a little anticlimactic but when he asked me what it said, I told him: "You are not strong."

He hauled off and punched me in the mouth, splitting my lip wide open.

I've been a tad more careful about the things I write ever since.

OK, tag, you're it...

 

[rida]

Ok I'll play

I was quite the tomboy as a kid, always playing with the boys (ok, that didn't change much ... ).

Anyway, one of the things that boys like to do is catch bugs, and I loved it to. I didn't like the spiders or the worms, but I loved to catch grasshoppers and ladybugs and butterfly. We would then put them in boxes with dirt and flowers and so on, a sort of little microcosm for them. (As a grown up I now know that we ended up killing all those bugs so I'm teaching my kids not to capture them.)

I also loved to play with the little green frogs that lived in the holes down the driveway to the garage: we would make racing circuit and try to make them go along the defined path (made by rocks lined up to make the sides). Of course they would always jump away ...

One day I decided to bring my little friends home, so I filled my hands (a couple each) and went home. As my hands were full I rang the doorbell and when my mom opened the door and asked why I didn't open it myself, I proudly opened my hands and showed her my friends.

My mom almost had a hearth attack and the frogs jumped away to safety and I got to learn that I was not supposed to bring my "friends" home

 

[WriterDom]

Playing doctor. You show me yours and I'll show you mine kind of thing. I love pussy but little girl cunts seem so dysfunctional and useless. You really must go through a period where you feel like you are really missing out. Of course all that changes when you hit puberty. Then you rule the world.

 

[Harmony_1985]

I remember my brother getting a smacked arse once for breaking one of my mums figurines.

I was sat on the sofa and we were having an arguement, and he took his jumper off and swung it around to hit me with it, the sleeve caught one of the figurines on the mantlepiece and knocked it off, smashing it on the fire harth.

My mum heard the smash and came in the house, my brother ran away and hid before she got inside and when mum saw it she went ape shit.

"DID YOU DO THAT?!"
"No, Steve did"
"WHERE IS HE?!"
"Dunno mum"

With that she stormed through the house to find him, dragged him back into the lounge and walloped him one that hard his feet left the floor. He had a great big hand print on his arse afterwards.

Lesson learned? Never touch mum's figurines lol.

 

[00Syd]

Now, I don't actually remember this, but I've heard the story so many times that I almost feel like I do.

My mother was pushing me in my stroller, I must have been three or four years old or something, and we came to a cross walk. The light was just changing, the "don't walk" sign was flashing, and instead of rushing across my mom started to slow down. And then a tiny voice came drifting up from the stroller:

"Make the light, mommy, make the light!"

this story is told on a regular basis as evidence that I've been a New Yorker since day one.

 

[oil_paint03]

My older brother (by 3 yrs) and I always mixed it up when we were growing up. He was bigger, stronger, and I read, so my attacks were verbal . One day, when he was 12, we were arguing as usual and I insulted him silly so he picked up a stuffed chair and THREW the damn thing at me. I ducked and a chair leg went through the wall. Stuck there like it was where it was supposed to be. We took one look at each other and I ran to get the spackling paste while he eased the chair out. Our mom rather liked the way we changed the furniture around (so we could hide the drying spackle).

Then we picked up where we left off

 

[Homburg]

Playing doctor. You show me yours and I'll show you mine kind of thing. I love pussy but little girl cunts seem so dysfunctional and useless. You really must go through a period where you feel like you are really missing out. Of course all that changes when you hit puberty. Then you rule the world.

I never played doctor. I played "medic". Growing up on army bases introduces fundamental changes to the games you play as a kid.

 

[WriterDom]

I had a good childhood for the most part. We were encouraged if not told to go outside. Played a lot of sports both in the neighborhood and in leagues/school. Had a cute girlfriend who wasn't submissive but never said no to sex or to sucking my cock. I never fucked her ass though. It never really crossed my mind that much. I think we all were a lot more pure before the internet came along.

There were no fears back then. No locking doors. Parents didn't care where kids were. School shootings were unthinkable. The bait box where they openly sold beer to anyone who drove through.

 

[Keroin]

Now, I don't actually remember this, but I've heard the story so many times that I almost feel like I do.

My mother was pushing me in my stroller, I must have been three or four years old or something, and we came to a cross walk. The light was just changing, the "don't walk" sign was flashing, and instead of rushing across my mom started to slow down. And then a tiny voice came drifting up from the stroller:

"Make the light, mommy, make the light!"

this story is told on a regular basis as evidence that I've been a New Yorker since day one.

That. Is. Hilarious!

I had a good childhood for the most part. We were encouraged if not told to go outside. Played a lot of sports both in the neighborhood and in leagues/school. Had a cute girlfriend who wasn't submissive but never said no to sex or to sucking my cock. I never fucked her ass though. It never really crossed my mind that much. I think we all were a lot more pure before the internet came along.

There were no fears back then. No locking doors. Parents didn't care where kids were. School shootings were unthinkable. The bait box where they openly sold beer to anyone who drove through.

I try not to let myself fall into that, "life was so much better when I was a kid" trap but in some ways I think it was. The rule in our house was that we had to be home by dinner but between the time I ran home from school, changed into play clothes and ran out the door, and when I showed up at six o'clock, filthy and hungry, my parents and Grandma had no clue where I was. And they never worried. I love that.

Life on this island reminds me of that time. Aside from the few days that Serial Killer Simon was on the island, I've never locked my doors. Ever. I see kids playing all over the darn place, with not a parent in sight. Warms my heart.

 

[Keroin]

Ok I'll play

I was quite the tomboy as a kid, always playing with the boys (ok, that didn't change much ... ).

Anyway, one of the things that boys like to do is catch bugs, and I loved it to. I didn't like the spiders or the worms, but I loved to catch grasshoppers and ladybugs and butterfly. We would then put them in boxes with dirt and flowers and so on, a sort of little microcosm for them. (As a grown up I now know that we ended up killing all those bugs so I'm teaching my kids not to capture them.)

I also loved to play with the little green frogs that lived in the holes down the driveway to the garage: we would make racing circuit and try to make them go along the defined path (made by rocks lined up to make the sides). Of course they would always jump away ...

One day I decided to bring my little friends home, so I filled my hands (a couple each) and went home. As my hands were full I rang the doorbell and when my mom opened the door and asked why I didn't open it myself, I proudly opened my hands and showed her my friends.

My mom almost had a hearth attack and the frogs jumped away to safety and I got to learn that I was not supposed to bring my "friends" home

Yes, sad to say that a number of insects have died by my hand. *Mentally spanks herself*

I love the commonality of the childhood experience. Did you grow up in Italy, Rida?


Reading Syd's tale reminded me of one that was told so often to me that I too feel like I remember it...

Apparently I refused to give up on drinking from a bottle. No matter what they tried, my parents said I refused to drink from a cup of any sort.

Then, one night, says Dad, I shuffled downstairs to the kitchen, walked over to the garbage can and dropped the bottle in it. Decision made. From that point on I would only drink from a cup.

Living life on my own terms, even at two. Cool.

 

[00Syd]

Anohter cute baby Syd story that's told constantly:

I'm 3 or 4 years old, standing in the park with my mother.
Mom: After we leave we're going to go pick up Uncle Bill's car.
Syd: That will be very heavy

/Groan

 

[Netzach]

Playing doctor. You show me yours and I'll show you mine kind of thing. I love pussy but little girl cunts seem so dysfunctional and useless. You really must go through a period where you feel like you are really missing out. Of course all that changes when you hit puberty. Then you rule the world.

I vividly remember the first penis I ever saw, a friend's little brother being changed.

I remember thinking but not daring to ask "what the hell happened to him? Ugh."

Freud eat your heart out.

 

[Keroin]

I remember thinking but not daring to ask "what the hell happened to him? Ugh."

*snort*

 

[WriterDom]

I was about 5 years old and watched a small plane fall out of the sky. It fell nose first and spinning. I would say it happened a mile and a half away. I ran and told some neighbors but they didn't believe me. Joe went to see it and wished he didn't now. He said there were body parts everywhere.

 

[Netzach]

Fire Island, Ocean Beach, 1977

little red wagon rides, red inflatable raft in the tidewater which formed some kind of a stream if I remember right, in the dunes, sandpipers and really freaky jellyfish all over the place, Dashers and The Apple disco having "kid disco" on weekday early evenings, I think. Donna Summer everywhere there was a radio.

 

[WriterDom]

I still remember how utterly thrilling it was to see and touch my first naked girlfriend. I was such a lousy fuck too. Even with condoms I couldn't last long. She was 5'2" and I think she weighed 98 pounds. Perfect ass too. Some women get cheated in the ass department. Perky B cup. Downside was her inverted nipples but at the time I wasn't into nipples like I am now. The only girl I was every with that did the pussy fart thing. She did it a lot.

She came easy from oral. And those shower massage things would get her off in 30 seconds.

 

[Yasashii_Kaze]

I was the one always bringing injured and half-dead animals home and trying to revive them. I remember once being at someone's house with my family and they had a lot of stray cats around. One of the kittens had gotten some sort of neck injury and it had become infected with maggots. Its neck was half eaten through and it was still alive. It kept giving off these weak little cries and I remember running sobbing to my dad, begging someone to kill it so it would stop suffering. My dad yelled at me for being foolish and causing a scene. I still wish to this day I'd had the courage to do it myself. I think I was about 12.

Yeah, not a great childhood. Anyone else got something cheerier?

 

[Keroin]

Fire Island, Ocean Beach, 1977

little red wagon rides, red inflatable raft in the tidewater which formed some kind of a stream if I remember right, in the dunes, sandpipers and really freaky jellyfish all over the place, Dashers and The Apple disco having "kid disco" on weekday early evenings, I think. Donna Summer everywhere there was a radio.

This is beautiful. How cool was Donna Summer. (Rhetorical)

I still remember how utterly thrilling it was to see and touch my first naked girlfriend. I was such a lousy fuck too. Even with condoms I couldn't last long. She was 5'2" and I think she weighed 98 pounds. Perfect ass too. Some women get cheated in the ass department. Perky B cup. Downside was her inverted nipples but at the time I wasn't into nipples like I am now. The only girl I was every with that did the pussy fart thing. She did it a lot.

She came easy from oral. And those shower massage things would get her off in 30 seconds.

Um, not lasting long doesn't make you a lousy fuck, it makes you a teenage boy. which I'm guessing you were.

I was the one always bringing injured and half-dead animals home and trying to revive them. I remember once being at someone's house with my family and they had a lot of stray cats around. One of the kittens had gotten some sort of neck injury and it had become infected with maggots. Its neck was half eaten through and it was still alive. It kept giving off these weak little cries and I remember running sobbing to my dad, begging someone to kill it so it would stop suffering. My dad yelled at me for being foolish and causing a scene. I still wish to this day I'd had the courage to do it myself. I think I was about 12.

Yeah, not a great childhood. Anyone else got something cheerier?

OK, that's just heartbreaking.

Hm, let me see...*dips into vault for happy childhood memory*...

Aren't children's excuses the best? I used to hang out with this group of boys and we were always daring each other to do stuff. One day we all starting climbing this tree. Dale went up first, then me, the Craig, then Michael B. Michael B was a wuss so he chickened out and climbed down right away. But the rest of us kept egging each other on to climb higher.

Finally, I had the misfortune of looking down and realizing how high up we were. Holy crap! Craig and I managed to claw our way back down but Dale, who we'd goaded into going further than us, wouldn't budge. He was freaked.

Once we got down, we ran and told Dale's Dad, who had to climb up and get Dale down. By that time Dale was crying and pretty much hysterical. It took ages to get him down.

Of course, when we initially told Dale's dad, we completely neglected to mention our part in the misadventure.

"Mr Dale's Dad, you gotta come quick! Dale's stuck at the top of that tree by the chicken ranch!"

"What's he doing up there?"

"Um...uh...we dunno...he said he just wanted to climb the tree, so we went and watched to make sure he didn't get hurt, is all."

 

[midwestyankee]

I don't recall it, but I'm told that when I was three I got overly curious about the hogs at the farm next to my grandfather's place. Apparently, I fell into the pen and my shoes stayed behind when my father pulled me out. He chose not to try to recover the shoes.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

I had a good childhood for the most part. We were encouraged if not told to go outside... <snippage>

I think we all were a lot more pure before the internet came along.

There were no fears back then. No locking doors. Parents didn't care where kids were. School shootings were unthinkable. The bait box where they openly sold beer to anyone who drove through.

Yeah. All of that. 13, 14, 15 years old, so somewhere around '63-'65. Especially during summer, indoors was not the place to be, even for a dedicated reader like me. Sit around the house, and someone would find something for you to do. Not fun things... things like washing the outside of all the windows of the house, or cleaning the rain gutters.

Instead, it wasn't uncommon for a few friends and I to tell our mothers, "We'll be back in a couple of days; we're going camping," and disappear into the wildlife refuge with backpacks of foodstuffs, fishing gear, a couple of pots for cooking (mostly fish we caught or a squirrel or three, or rabbits), and one or more .22-caliber single-shot rifles. Oh, yeah - and some books for me.

My 13-year-old summer, we had built a dugout cabin about a mile or so into the refuge, and camouflaged it well enough that even the NA Refuge wardens never found it until well after we all graduated from high school. Damn thing was about 15 x 20 feet, completely walled and floored inside with 1/2" plywood we'd snaked in there a piece or three at a time, had a small wood-burning stove we'd rescued from a deserted farmhouse, with a chimney that vented out through one of the thickest bramble scrubs you'll ever see.

Because it was against refuge rules to (A) camp on the refuge without a permit, (B) hunt on the refuge without a permit, and (C) build a fire of any sort without a freakin' permit (too much chance of wildfire), we still never lit the stove until dark or close to it, even though on a test, we found that the bramble broke up the smoke well enough it couldn't be seen from more than a quarter mile or so away even on the brightest day. Most of us probably spent 3 or 4 of every 6 days there, sleeping there most of those nights. (Of course on Sundays, we had to be home by 8 a.m. to clean up, dress up, and go to church with the famblies, then go to the youth fellowship groups at our various churches Sunday evening.)

No one ever worried. If we said we were camping for "a couple of days," that could mean anything from one over-night to four or five. Of course, someone would usually make a run home for something - cleaner clothes, supplies of some sort (often marshmallows, or hot dogs/ground beef and hamburger buns, if the hunting and fishing hadn't been good) - and that person would either leave a note ("A, B, C, D and E still out camping - back in a day or two.") or if someone was home, tell them who was out there.

Our moms all knew each other and would call if something came up. "A's mom, this is C's mom. He's got a dentist appointment tomorrow. If you see one of the kids, remind him he's got to be home by noon to take a bath and dress like a human being." Since there were eight or nine of us who went out there, but seldom more than four or five at any given time, A's mom would tell A, "Go out where y'all camp and tell C he's got to be home by noon tomorrow for his dentist appointment," and A would wander out there and pass on the message... and often as not, stay for a day or two.

Couldn't happen these days, sad to say. This generation (and much of the one before it) will never get to experience that particular sense of freedom and self-sufficiency with a perfect knowledge that all is well, nothing bad can happen. <Sigh>

 

[graceanne]

It took me awhile, since I was trying to think of stories that aren't depressing. I know I have good memories, but I can never think of them on demand. lol

Anyway, when I was five, and my sister was four, she learned how to work the lighter. Mom and Daddy were 'asleep' (read: passed out) and we were entertaining ourselves like we normally did on weekend nights. (Note to the unweary, don't drink water without smelling it. Sometimes it's whine. Yuck.) Anyway, she was showing off, and lit some scraps from my mom's sewing on fire. It burned her finger so she dropped it in the trash can that mom kept her scraps in, and set all those scraps on fire. One that was sticking out caught the couch on fire. I got a big cup of water from the sink and put out the fires, and took the trash can (which had melted and stunk) outside and flipped over the cushions on the couch.

The funny part was then Daddy woke up. Mom says she woke up to him shaking her and saying "I smell smoke, I smell smoke.", but he couldn't find his glasses and is nearly blind without them. LOL Talk about a bad way to wake up!

Come to think of it, that's when they started having us spend the night at the sitters when they partied.

 

[Homburg]

Yeah. All of that. 13, 14, 15 years old, so somewhere around '63-'65. Especially during summer, indoors was not the place to be, even for a dedicated reader like me. Sit around the house, and someone would find something for you to do. Not fun things... things like washing the outside of all the windows of the house, or cleaning the rain gutters.

Instead, it wasn't uncommon for a few friends and I to tell our mothers, "We'll be back in a couple of days; we're going camping," and disappear into the wildlife refuge with backpacks of foodstuffs, fishing gear, a couple of pots for cooking (mostly fish we caught or a squirrel or three, or rabbits), and one or more .22-caliber single-shot rifles. Oh, yeah - and some books for me.

My 13-year-old summer, we had built a dugout cabin about a mile or so into the refuge, and camouflaged it well enough that even the NA Refuge wardens never found it until well after we all graduated from high school. Damn thing was about 15 x 20 feet, completely walled and floored inside with 1/2" plywood we'd snaked in there a piece or three at a time, had a small wood-burning stove we'd rescued from a deserted farmhouse, with a chimney that vented out through one of the thickest bramble scrubs you'll ever see.

Because it was against refuge rules to (A) camp on the refuge without a permit, (B) hunt on the refuge without a permit, and (C) build a fire of any sort without a freakin' permit (too much chance of wildfire), we still never lit the stove until dark or close to it, even though on a test, we found that the bramble broke up the smoke well enough it couldn't be seen from more than a quarter mile or so away even on the brightest day. Most of us probably spent 3 or 4 of every 6 days there, sleeping there most of those nights. (Of course on Sundays, we had to be home by 8 a.m. to clean up, dress up, and go to church with the famblies, then go to the youth fellowship groups at our various churches Sunday evening.)

No one ever worried. If we said we were camping for "a couple of days," that could mean anything from one over-night to four or five. Of course, someone would usually make a run home for something - cleaner clothes, supplies of some sort (often marshmallows, or hot dogs/ground beef and hamburger buns, if the hunting and fishing hadn't been good) - and that person would either leave a note ("A, B, C, D and E still out camping - back in a day or two.") or if someone was home, tell them who was out there.

Our moms all knew each other and would call if something came up. "A's mom, this is C's mom. He's got a dentist appointment tomorrow. If you see one of the kids, remind him he's got to be home by noon to take a bath and dress like a human being." Since there were eight or nine of us who went out there, but seldom more than four or five at any given time, A's mom would tell A, "Go out where y'all camp and tell C he's got to be home by noon tomorrow for his dentist appointment," and A would wander out there and pass on the message... and often as not, stay for a day or two.

Couldn't happen these days, sad to say. This generation (and much of the one before it) will never get to experience that particular sense of freedom and self-sufficiency with a perfect knowledge that all is well, nothing bad can happen. <Sigh>

This sounds awesome. I did some self-reliant stuff as a youngster, but nothing of this magnitude. My kids won't even vaguely approach what I did, let alone this.

 

[Sir_Winston54]

This sounds awesome. I did some self-reliant stuff as a youngster, but nothing of this magnitude. My kids won't even vaguely approach what I did, let alone this.

Among the bunch of kids/teens who did this, we had three or four army brats who had picked up this, that and the other from bein' damn near everywhere by the time we were teens; a couple of kids whose dads worked construction (good for hijacking lumber, nails, hammers, saws... as well as some practical experience); one guy who could just *look* at things and say, "Hey if we do xyz, then abc will just fall right into place," and be right; and a couple with no particular skills, but lots of muscle (good for digging through that Oklahoma clay to make our place the size and shape we wanted) - a very serendipitous set of skills, talents and abilities that worked together nicely.

Funny thing is, I can't remember any time, out of the five to fifteen years various combinations of us had known each other, that we ever had any serious disagreements. Not once. That's the most (r/l) people I've ever been able to call "Friend" (note the capitalization) at any one time in my life. We matched and meshed in so many ways it wasn't funny. Our parents used to say we were pretty much interchangeable, with the exception that only two of us were readers.

 

[graceanne]

When my brother was born (I was nine) we were in California for our visit with our dad (me and my sister). I think Daddy knew that my stepmom was about to go into labor, cause we were at my grandpas. Anyway, J went into labor, and Daddy brought us a change of clothing, and he brought me a tube top and a bra! LOL

We never let him live that one down.

 

[graceanne]

Among the bunch of kids/teens who did this, we had three or four army brats who had picked up this, that and the other from bein' damn near everywhere by the time we were teens; a couple of kids whose dads worked construction (good for hijacking lumber, nails, hammers, saws... as well as some practical experience); one guy who could just *look* and things and say, "Hey if we do xyz, then abc will just fall right into place," and be right; and a couple with no particular skills, but lots of muscle (good for digging through that Oklahoma clay to make our place the size and shape we wanted) - a very serendipitous set of skills, talents and abilities that worked together nicely.

Funny thing is, I can't remember any time, out of the five to fifteen years various combinations of us had known each other, that we ever had any serious disagreements. Not once. That's the most (r/l) people I've ever been able to call "Friend" (note the capitalization) at any one time in my life. We matched and meshed in so many ways it wasn't funny. Our parents used to say we were pretty much interchangeable, with the exception that only two of us were readers.

I'm jealous. If my sister and I were away from my mom for more than minutes we were IN TROUBLE. She was always terrified that we were going to get molested. We weren't even allowed to spend the night at friends houses who had dads.