Oh, please . I am old; I live on another continent. Anything my family brings up, I can deny. Anything significant was only known to my brother. He died a few years ago, so I am safe.

When ever my twin and I were unhappy with mom trying to make us behave we'd tell her, "we're going to runaway". We stated this 'threat' once too often I guess and she packed a bag and put us out the door with, "Fine here you go". A short time later my Dad got home from work and wanted to know what the girls were doing with a suitcase sitting on stoop.

Yes. Quite shameful, actually, too. I don’t even like to think about it I’m so ashamed.

I remember when I was around 4 or maybe 5 years old,I often used the word "back" in place of the word "fart". At that time,there was a line in a Sugar Pops cereal commercial that went "bang, bang, Sugar Pops are tops". I would sing the jingle, then substitute the words "back, back" for "bang, bang"" I would sing it "back-back, Sugar Pops are tops!". My brother and I still joke or reminisce about this several times a year, even today.

1950's, because my first haircut was at age 3. Curls, I was taught by my teen babysitters if I hear... "What a pretty girl!" To pull down my pants and show them the worm. They said I did it to a nun once but I can't confirm the source.

Not exactly talked about but consequences still apparent 20 years later. The visiting doctor when I was 7 wanted a urine sample. It was provided in a little brown pottery mixing bowl. 20 years later that bowl was still in the cupboard but despite having been thoroughly cleaned and sterilized that little brown bowl was never used again. It was known as the "don't use that bowl, it's the one FB peed in when he was seven!"

Not me, but a brother. We were on a family vacation at the beach, he was 2 and wandered. The beach was searched, lifesavers, patrol boats everything. Went back to where we were staying, 3 miles away. He was there, he had let my grandfathers canary out of the cage. But his reason fro walking off was, he wanted a banana. This was somewhere he had never been in his life, and there he was, banana in hand, and empty cage next to him.

When I was 6 my hamster, Herbie died. Instead of telling anyone I took him out to the backyard and buried him. When we moved a few months later I secretly dug him back up, put the remains in a plastic bag, hid him in my stuff and reburied him at our new house. A few months later I got found out when my mother caught me "cleaning his bones for science Mother" at the dining room table. I'm sure I was pretending to cure cancer or some such thing. She still looks at me sideways when she tells the story. I'm sure she thought I was crazy. Lol The truth is I was fascinated (still am) by life.

I have the memory for my family. The only stories brought up are the ones I use to tease my brothers with. Like one time in our teens, my brother and I were having a snowball fight. At night. Because why not? We lived next to a grocery store and the parking lot lights provided enough light and shadow to make it interesting. At one point, an older guy walked by on the sidewalk. He was almost past the driveway when my brother hit the dude square in the back. It was perfect! But he didn't think so, and chased my brother into the house, where my dad came to the door and calmed him down. I still laugh thinking about that snowball smack.

Oh yes..all the time actually...

What a great memory to have, and the trip sounds even better. I don't really have many stories about myself, I was a middle child and just did my best to blend into the background (a lifelong habit still, ha!)... but our family did used to play a game called "Scaresies" that I love to tell friends about, because it makes my family sound so odd, lol...

Occasionally at night, starting when I was maybe 6 or 7, we'd be watching tv, or doing homework, eating dinner, whatever, and my stepfather would go down into the basement and shut off the main power breaker to the whole house. Every room was pitch black, not a light in sight... Then he'd start yelling that he was EDDIE QUISTO (the name of the main character from "The Howling," he added the "o" on the end), and that he was coming for us... so my older sister and I would scream bloody murder and run around the house hiding from him while our mother just sat and sighed, waiting for the "fun" to be over, ha... if he caught us, he'd tickle us half to death until we could "escape" and go hide again.

Years later, when I was a teenager, I started playing it with my younger siblings (I would just turn off the lights, not kill the power!), and to this day we are a family that loves to scare each other, lol.... why, just last month on Christmas eve I stood in the bushes outside of my sister's house scratching lightly on the screen window until my mother finally looked over and saw me, man did she SCREAM....