Uncategorized

Let’s play.

45 Comments

.

Time to brush off the brain cobwebs.

.

.

I was supposed to be 4 to enter preschool but since my birthday is in December, I was 3.

Because I was an only child, my mother always signed me up for “social” experiences and in 1967 she thought half a day at preschool with other children was just the thing.

I remember we were told to bring something to lay on the floor for nap time and while other kids had blankets or towels, my mother – being my mother – went shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue and I showed up with a large, extremely plush and colorful Humpty Dumpty oblong egg rug. I remember rolling it out and all the other kids oohing and ahhing… but not in a nice way. We all laid down and the next thing I knew some ratty little bastard pushed me off Humpty and stole it. I cried and pointed at the pint sized felon but was told to hush up and go to sleep.

.

.

I don’t remember what happened later, though I’m sure my mother gave the teacher a good tongue lashing…but even after Humpty was returned the next day, preschool was never my happy place again.

How about you?

What’s your very first memory….

.

45 thoughts on “Let’s play.”

  2. I don’t know how long I spent at a playgroup. But it wouldn’t have been long. I didn’t like it because I did not get privacy on the toilet.
    I didn’t come out with that as a child to my mum. I only said I didn’t like it there and mum didn’t make me go. So that was that.
    My mum learnt the reason why when I was an adult, why I didn’t like going there

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

      1. I have a memory as a baby which was rather strange. I wouldn’t have known it then as being strange than just being scared. But as an adult with the memory, it’s strange. I can remember being in the cot and I was lifting my head up because in a line there was a moth, followed by an insect and whatever else. I can remember just holding my head up until giving a chance for them to hopefully go by and disappear. I must have been dreaming cos it rather strange that one. But I can remember my fear.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. I have some old memories, like my Pap’s scratchy stubble, the smell of Old Spice and Pall Malls. I treasure these memories, though they have grown dim over the years.
    The clearest of these memories involves my Dad in the winter of 1967. My Mom, my sisters and I were living in Maryland while we waited for a base housing unit in Charleston. Dad would borrow a car from a buddy to come up every other weekend or so. One of those days we walked together in the snow to get a pack of smokes or something from the neighborhood store. I was throwing snowballs and, as I recall, it was kind of sad until my Dad turned it into a “Hold my beer” kind of moment.
    The street was lined with black creosote telephone poles with tin numbers tacked on the sides. He took off his gloves and packed up a snowball. He pointed at the numbers on one of the poles, let it fly and POP! I can almost hear us laughing. It didn’t last very long but, on that day he was my hero, the guy who could do anything. See you soon, Tim.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  4. My very first memory was standing in front of a Ferris wheel, all lit up with lights flickering on and off. The wheel turning and people laughing and having fun. Then my dad picking me up and whisking me away. Apparently I walked a block and a half to the baseball field near our house and adjacent to the church to see the carnival rides where the annual church fair was taking place. I was three and according to my mom, it wasn’t the first time I’d “wandered” out of our house. I say I didn’t wander, it was lack of adequate parenting 🤣

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  5. I was just thinking about this a few days ago, as I just turned 70 and apparently am officially an “old lady.” I have vague memories of a giant grasshopper in my crib and walking with my grandmother through her strawberry field. The most vivid one however is of going to the zoo with my mother, where a peacock flew down from some building and landed on me. I remember lying on the ground while surrounded by adult faces looking down on me and asking “Are you okay?” I suppose I was, but my mother rushed me back home, which didn’t make me happy. I found out much later that the zoo got rid of all their peacocks after one pecked a child and made off with their popcorn. Anyway, I still don’t care for the birds. When I visited a botanical garden in St. Paul I was greeted by the sight of a peacock with its “fan” fully spread. Everyone else oohed and ahhed, but I cringed and stepped back.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    2. You were “officially” an old lady when you received your first correspondence from (A) the SS office, (B) A funeral home, and (3) Medicare. This should all have occurred about the age of 65.

      Like

      Reply

      1. Uhh I started seeing online ads for custom made caskets when I was 55. Those seem to have been replaced by ads for “natural burials” (no casket, no embalming, just a winding sheet and planting under a tree). But I don’t think of myself as old and I don’t care to be called old, especially by strangers. It’s not denial, I work my butt off, probably harder than when I was 30.

        Like

  8. My earliest memory is of bringing my mom and my baby brother home from the hospital. I was three years old and have no memory of my mother being pregnant, or of anyone telling me a new little sibling was on the way. I just remember being in the car, sitting next to my grandmother, who was holding the baby. I wanted to hold him but wasn’t allowed to. I still remember how disappointed I was.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  10. I remember crawling on a brown shag carpet, which predates my next earliest memory of walking around with a full diaper.

    I’m told I’ve remembered further back than most people, assuming the memories are real.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  12. I think my earliest memory is drinking the leftover coffee in the adults’ cups after they left the room.

    This post caused me to relive the trauma of barfing spaghetti on my sleep,mate, a stuffed blue bunny, and it being thrown away.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  13. I have a photo of my 1st or 2nd bday, my Mom put the whole cake on the table of my highchair and I am sticking my.fingers in the icing, my aged 6 or 8 yr old brother is nearby crying because I’m ruining my cake 🤣

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  14. I was two and, getting bored sitting in my playpen, noticed my dad’s cigarette lighter was within arm’s reach, and so, naturally, I had to give it a whirl. At two, I was unaware that Tinker Toys were flammable. So, my first memory was creating my own little Burning Man in my playpen. It did no damage before my dad snuffed it out, but I am pretty sure I stayed in trouble until his passing. This is why the memory stuck.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  15. My grandparents owned a villa in Jamaica. I went there when I was 3 and again when I was 6, so I can never be sure which memories from there are from which age. Add to that the photo albums pictures and I can’t be certain if some memories are pure or if they’re implanted from looking at the photos! My most guaranteed earliest memory, then, would be age 5: Disney World.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  16. I don’t know if it’s a First memory but when I was 6, I was on a Game Shiw and one of the 7 Dwarves visited. The boy next to me got so excited and said “He touched my hand! I am never going to wash my hands again!” or something like that and I thought the boy was crazy.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

Leave a comment