Silly things you did as a kid

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When I was around 10-12, I put dish soap in the hole of a dish washer when I used to live in a apartment with my biological dad. He thought my sister, who was around a decade older than me, was responsible for it. Needless to say I didn't get caught but I do wonder why I ever did that.
 
I wore kid-sized desert BDUs and Reebok Pumps at my 9th birthday party.

8CsL0DH.jpg
 
I had a pair of these god-awful sandals that were made of this clear, thick plastic/rubber mix that smelled funny, and had raised, hollow soles that made loud echoey KA-CLOMP KA-CLOMP sounds when I walked on hard floors. At the time I loved them but I'm sure I embarrassed the hell out of my parents when we were anywhere with tile/concrete floors.
 
When I was 8 years old I tied my brother's 5ft long toy snake onto the landing bannister and used it as a rope swing. It was fun for a while but eventually I swung too far and smashed the mirror in the hall with my feet. I was fine, but I scared the life out of my parents so I never did it again. The snake was mostly unscathed oddly enough, apart from where it's neck was stretched from all the swinging.
 
After seeing the Powerpuff Girls episode where Mojo Jojo creates the Rowdyruff Boys, I thought I could do the same thing by flushing a bunch of shit down the toilet. I remember I used liquid soap as one of the ingredients.
 
When I was about three or four, I had a beanbag chair full of styrofoam pellets. One day, I decided to unzip it to see what was inside and about half of the pellets spilled out onto the floor. Instead of putting them back in, I tried to hide them by dumping them into a nearby air conditioning intake vent. For years afterwards, every time the air conditioning came on it would shoot styrofoam pellets.
 
Back in 5th grade, I was drawing my middle finger on the blackboard with a few friends during the lunch break when the teacher came in...
 
One of my first memories is being between around three years old and hearing the concept of a "gingerbread man" for the first time. I pestered my mother to let me help her make gingerbread men so that we could have them for Christmas, but she told me we could do it later. "Later" dragged on and on, until it finally dawned on me that it was like Easter and we still hadn't made any gingerbread men and it probably wasn't going to happen.

One day I was home alone while my mother was visiting a neighbor (again, let me stress, I would have been about three at this time), I noticed an unused jar of ginger in the cupboard. A little lightblub went off: "I have ginger. I have bread. I will make my own fucking gingerbread man." I climbed on the kitchen table, opened a sack of bread, and began mashing out pieces of plain white bread into a man-shape. I used every piece of bread and I think I covered most of the kitchen table. I unscrewed the cap on the spice jar and dumped that shit on my gingerbread man. Then I opened a wee box of raisins and stuck on eyes, a mouth, and buttons. Then I sat down and waited for my mother to get home so that she could put him in the oven; baking, I was sure, was all I needed to make my gingerbread monster look like a real gingerbread man.

My mother arrived home and laughed and laughed at my gingerbread man before abruptly smacking me upside the head and then beating the shit out of me because my mother was and is a dangerously unstable woman and I had an abusive childhood. To this day when my mother tells this story, it is not "do you remember the time when you were little and you made a gingerbread man?" but "do you remember when you were little and I beat the shit out of you for making a gingerbread man?"

A lot of my childhood stories end this way. Someday I'll tell you another! :biggrin::biggrin::biggrin:
 
In my elementary school days, I was fascinated by man-made disasters and catastrophes, especially the Titanic and the Hindenburg. In regards to the latter, I was for some reason so driven to getting the insignia on the zeppelin's tail fins right, I filled up the entire back cover of my notebook trying-and eventually succeeding-at doing so.

I will remind you all that the Hindenburg's tail fins looked like this:

Lakehurst_NJ_Hindenburg_Hangar1_36.jpg
 
sm0t said:
I had a pair of these god-awful sandals that were made of this clear, thick plastic/rubber mix that smelled funny, and had raised, hollow soles that made loud echoey KA-CLOMP KA-CLOMP sounds when I walked on hard floors. At the time I loved them but I'm sure I embarrassed the hell out of my parents when we were anywhere with tile/concrete floors.
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Dude, I remember those! I think I had a pair when I was about 8.

When I was little, I had a crippling fear of showerheads.
 
In 3rd grade we did a project for St. Patrick's Day. We had to color a Leprechaun and then cut out and paste green objects and animals from magazines onto the pot of gold. Yeah that's not exactly a project you'd expect kids as old as 3rd graders to do, but I liked to color and it was a break from math so no complaints from me.

At any rate, when coloring my Leprechaun I realized I had no proper flesh-colored marker, and using a crayon just wasn't the same seeing as how I already did his clothes and hair in marker. So I figured what the hell, yellow is close enough, right? After that I wanted a good finishing touch for me Leprechaun and decided on freckles. A few freckles turned into a dozen, and then into several dozen, and kept snowballing from there. I figured it would be alright. I mean, how many red-heads do you see that don't have a fuckton of freckles.

In the end, between the yellow skin and the zillion freckles my Leprechaun looked like it was suffering from some terminal illness. And that still didn't stop me from hanging it on my bulletin board until the end of elementary school.
 
I drew lipstick and eyelashes on everything I perceived as being female. One time we were coloring octopi in kindergarten and my teacher wouldn't let me, flat-out saying "Octopuses don't wear lipstick!" Bitch. :c
 
I would climb steps four at a time.

No, wait, I do this now.
 
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