Pint-sized and Full of Rage

My parents came down for a visit a few weeks back and we spent an evening sitting on the screened porch by the fire pit sharing stories about our pasts. One of the questions that was posed was: What is your earliest memory? For me, my earliest memory is a mix of adventure, pain, frustration, and now, some comedic relief.

Year: 1996                                                                                                                                                            Location: Orlando, Florida

Every kid dreams of going to Walt Disney World. It’s touted to be the happiest place on earth after all and for most, their experiences reflect that sentiment and they leave with happy memories. But not all…

When I was 4 my parents decided it was high-time to take my older brother and me to meet the main mouse himself: Mickey. We loaded up the RV and drove across 5 states before setting up camp at a Disney-adjacent campground for the week.

Do I remember the drive down? Nope. Do I remember making daily visits to the different parks? Not a bit. Do I remember meeting some of my favorite Disney Princes and Princesses? Sure don’t. Honestly, I don’t remember most of the trip, but I do remember one moment I had from that trip as if it happened yesterday.


So there I was in my little swimsuit splashing around in the campground’s kitty pool; you know the kind that has maybe a foot of water in it… I was having myself a grand ‘ol time when disaster struck.

I was waddling my way from one end of the pool to the other when I felt a sharp pain shoot across my foot. My first thought was that I was bit by something. I was, after all, in uncharted waters where mysterious creatures could dwell… After determining the chlorine unfit for marine life, my second thought was: OW!

My knees buckled and I stepped back. I looked down at the pool floor and discovered a dark speck. Was it a crab? Was it a piece of glass? Did I just cut open the bottom of my foot? Was I bleeding!? Were the sharks descending on me right that very moment!?!!?

I squatted down to get a better visual of the perturbance only to find I had stepped on a pebble. I became enraged.

Why is there a rock in MY pool!? Who had the nerve to leave this for me to step on!!? I’m on vacation! How dare someone ruin my fun with this stupid rock! Where’s my momma!?!?? I need to tell on someone!!

I don’t remember any interaction with my mom afterwards or if I stayed in the kitty pool or left. I only remember becoming infuriated over the fact that my fun was ruined by a damn rock in my swimming pool.

I suppose it’s rather fitting that my earliest memory is one of rage since I’m a redhead… 

So tell me: What’s your earliest memory? Is it one of excitement? Fear? Comfort? What about that memory in particular made such a lasting impression? Feel free to write a post about it and tag me; I’d love to read it.

4 thoughts on “Pint-sized and Full of Rage

  1. Great idea for a post. I have to think about it. A memory doesn’t pop up right away. I feel like a lot of the stories from when I was younger were retold so many time that I don’t know if I actually remember it happening or just remember the retelling.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It’s probably easier for me to have such the recall because the emotion I felt was so strong. And I totally get the retelling vs. remembering bit; my mom has a handful of stories from my childhood she loves to repeat and I’ve heard them so many times I could reenact them.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: The week gone by — Nov. 1 – A Silly Place

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