My Earliest Memory

Okay, I figured I’m gonna induce flashbacks and make you recall your earliest memories, I should be willing to do the same.

So here it is. Confessions of a fat kid.

Scribbled in mom’s handwriting:
January 1992
“about 9 1/2 – 10mo.”

Our family moved to Texas on my 3rd birthday. Apparently I got car-sick and chucked up my birthday cake all over my grandmother’s velvet back seat.

Happy freakin birthday to me. and Mimi. Sorry about that. If it’s any consolation you don’t have to worry, I don’t get motion sick now. You can stop reminding me of this occurrence every time I ride with you.

I don’t remember very much about when I lived in St. Louis.
Hardly anything, if I was honest. Just snapshots. Quick flashes in my memory.

I remember,  the curtains on the window next to my crib were  a pattern of red, blue, and green airplanes.

I remember the ice cream man. The back deck. The swing-set. The “woods” behind our house.

 

The treasure. Priceless.

The first vivid one?

I remember finding where mom stashed the Whoppers.

I had seen her put them up once. Lewis & Clark “aint got nothin on me.” Adventurer from birth. I slyly pretended to go down for a nap, waited ’til she was gone and escaped, climbed on top of the toilet seat, opened the sink cabinet, reached for the treasure, and plunged my hand to the bottom of the bucket. I then happily plopped myself down on the stairs and ate them triumphantly, while waiting for my mother to walk by.

I’m sure it would’ve been hard not to laugh,  seeing me cradling a pound carton of chocolate, half of it now in my stomach, with a huge grin.  I don’t remember what happened when she did find me, but…. seriously who keeps stashed candy in the bathroom??! That was obviously a rookie mistake which deserved to be outwitted.

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