As a child, I wrote my last will. All my toys were to go to our cat: my room — to Alex, the local hobo who always said “hi“ to me; my etiquette textbook was to go to my brother, as we’d had a fight not long before. I brought the list to my aunt, who was a lawyer, and asked her to ”apostle“ it. She was a resourceful woman, so she sent copies of my list to all our relatives, crowning it all by putting the original on her desk in a frame. That way, not only my family laughed at me but all her clients did too.
Once, a boy from my class approached me during naptime in kindergarten. I pretended to be asleep and didn’t move. He lay beside me, kissed me on the cheek, and quietly said, “I love you.” Then he went to his bed. I still remember him going home that day, his gray striped sweatshirt… Now I’m 27, but that childhood confession remains one of the most romantic things I’ve heard in my life.
When I went to my grandfather’s home outside the town, everyone there had a ”Beware of the dog“ sign on their gates. I once got angry with Grandpa for some reason, and while he was at work, I wrote ”Beware of Gramps” on his gate.
A girl once brought a new doll to kindergarten, and it was so pretty even the boys liked it. Everyone played with it, but I was the one to break it. The girl cried, of course, so I decided to give her a similar doll. I asked my parents to buy it for me for my birthday instead of the thing I wanted for myself. They approved, and I gave her that doll on my birthday. The girl’s joy was the best pay-off I could imagine. And at dinner, my dad gave me my own present as well. He said I did the right thing, and they were proud of me.
When I was 3, my grandma and I went to the grocery store. There was a line of a few people. One of the women there said to my grandma, “What a beautiful daughter you have!“ Without too much thinking, I pulled down both my shorts and my underpants and said, ”I’m a grandson!“
When I was 8, I remember our cat giving birth to a litter. After the winter holidays, when I couldn’t get up from bed in the morning, my mom caught all the kittens and let them loose in my bed. They crawled all over me, and I just had to get up to let them down on the floor. One of the warmest memories from my childhood.
When my brother was little, we lived in a country house, and he often went in the backyard to get suntanned. He took a folding bed, undressed to his shorts, lay down, and covered himself with a blanket. When our mom told him that wasn’t how you tanned, he replied, “If I take it off, mosquitoes will bite me!”
My friend and I live in the same apartment building on the same floor, but we’re two entrances away from each other. When we were little, we didn’t have cell phones, so we decided to make our own ”mail“ by pulling a rope from her balcony to mine. It wasn’t too easy, we lived on the second floor after all, but we somehow managed. It turned out to be real fun: you attached a note to the end of one rope, pulled the other, and your note started traveling. We were so happy we could send these ”mails” to each other every evening. In the morning, the one to wake up first was to send the first note. I remember getting up and rushing to the balcony where there was already a note waiting saying “Good morning!” I miss those times so much.
When I was little, I often played in the sandbox with my friend. She once told me a story about how she’d been digging the sand and had dug so deep she could see the subway and the trains. I believed her and started digging myself, sitting there until late, when my parents took me away. I was so frustrated when they told me there was no subway in our town!
Taking a shower as a kid, I liked filling my mouth with water and pretending I was a fountain by spitting it out. I even assumed different “fountain” poses. Some dreamed of becoming doctors, others of flying into space, and I dreamed of becoming a fountain.
When I was 3, my parents painted the floor. I didn’t notice, and I ran across it, leaving my footprints in the paint. Now I’m 21. Recently, when moving the sofa, I saw those same prints. It turned out my parents hadn’t painted them over specifically for me to see them when I grew up.