Quote:
Originally Posted by garinda
I was two years and three days old when I lost my only child status, and my brother was born. Bringing the gift of a golliwog, as some sort of compensation. I remember sulking at the bottom of the stairs in the hospital, the day he came home.
I have lots of memories before that.
My Nan washing my hair with Stardrops in the kitchen sink, when my nice baby shampoo was upstairs in the bathroom.
Being disappointed at getting a pedal tank you sat in, from Father Christmas.
Clothes feature in many early memories. I know all the colours of what I wore as a baby, even though there are only black and white photographs of them.
I think my very earliest memory was around my first birthday. I sneaked into the unused front room, opened a display cabinet, and ate the baby and crib, made out of Royal icing, that had been made to go on top of my christening cake.
Greedy, with an interest in fashion.
Nothing much changes.
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As my brother sometimes reads Accy Web.
I love you now, and you're a great brother.
Even though the golliwog has now lost his jacket, because it was shoddily constucted in the first place.
Another bad memory, now family legend.
I once remember saying to my Mum that I could feed my baby brother his nursery slop.
Mum thanked me, propped us between cushions on the sofa, and went into the kitchen.
I remember thinking if I eat all the food he might starve, and I'd be King Tot again.
Gobble, gobble.
'He's finished it all Mummy!'
