First memories

I have a few hazy first memories. Being in the bath at my aunt's while mum was in hospital after my brother was born. Running up fire stairs at the hospital when I went to visit them. Cutting my finger. But they are very vague and hard to catch hold of, more like a remembered glimpse of a blurry image than later memories with their movement and colours and emotions.

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The other day I mentioned our old apartment to Téo and asked if he remembered living there.

Yes. I peed on the floor and you were cranky with me.

That seems a lot clearer than my early memories.

So does his recollection this week of another not-so-happy event.

Mummy, why did the policeman have to bweak the window and then they gave me a lion?

When he was 2.5, I accidentally locked him in the car while we were in Sydney. On a hot day. At lunch time. Parked in the sun.

Neither the police not the NRMA could pick the lock (WTF? How come car thieves seem to be able to do it no problem??) so, after 20 min or so and Téo getting very obviously very hot, they decided to smash the window.

I didn't like it when they bweaked the window. It made too much noise. I cwied.

For a while afterwards he would say the police gave him the toy lion, and we would talk about how he was rescued, but he hasn't said anything for ages. Like, years. And I never really said anything about him crying, I always praised him for being so brave.

So great, another traumatic first memory. And one that seems unlikely to fade - his favourite game these days goes along the lines of you be stuck in the car mummy and I'll be the police and I'll come and wescue you. EEEEE-OOORRR EEEEE-OOORRR SMASH SMASH I bwoke the window, you can get out now!

Fabulous.