Quotes About Childhood

What are you up to tonight, bean?" my mother asked me. I loved it when she called me bean. It reminded me of being six years old and falling asleep in her bed.

I grabbed the stuffed polar bear on my dresser and hugged him close to my chest—his name was Junior Mint, Junior for short.

Eight was just eight. Hot dogs and peanut butter, mosquito bites and splinters, bikes and boogie boards. Tangled hair, sunburned shoulders, Judy Blume, in bed by nine thirty.

Her eyes never stop shining. It makes me wish I was little again and everything could be solved with a Christmas Day puppy.

When I was a little girl, rocking my little dolls, I remember thinking I would be the world's best mom, and so far I've done it.

I guess now that I think back, I used to play priest and be a funny priest. I don't know, I grew up in such a Catholic family that I kind of liked to test the boundaries a little bit and I think I had fun watching my mom laugh.

Jenny Nimmo

A few days later, I yelled at him for losing his new lunch box, and he turned to me and said, Are you sure you're my mother? Sometimes you don't seem like a good enough person. He was just a kid, so I let it go. And now, years later, I probably only think of it, I don't know, once or twice a day.

Is she a good baby? People would ask me. Well, no, I'd say. That swirl of hair on the back of her head. We must have taken a thousand pictures of it.

Someone had given my daughter a doctor's kit. Carefully, she takes her own temperature, places the pressure cuff around her arm. Then she takes the cuff off and examines it. "Would you like to be a doctor when you grow up?" I ask her. She looks at me oddly. "I'm already a doctor," she says.

Once when she was just learning to talk, I ran my hand across her face, naming every part of it. Later, when I put her in the crib, she called me back. First, she asked for water, then for milk, then for kisses. "It hurts. Don't go," she said. "What does? What hurts, sweetie?" She paused. "My eyelashes.

My daughter breaks both her wrists jumping off of a swing. Her friend, who is five, told her to jump off of it. I promise nothing will happen, she said. But why did she promise that? she wails later at the hospital.

A few days later the baby sees the garden hose come on and we hear her laughing. All my life now appears to be one happy moment. This is what the first man in space said. Later, when it's time to go to bed, she puts both legs in one side of her footy pajamas and slyly waits for us to notice.

So Niels grows up, and all the influences of his childhood work on the plastic clay. Everything helps to shape it; everything is significant, the real and the dreamed, what is known and what is foreshadowed— all add their touch, lightly but surely, to that tracery of lines which is destined to be first hollowed out and deepened and afterwards flattened out and smoothed away.

You should want to win. I still remember when I was little. Girls would score a goal, and we would walk together, high-five, and walk back to our positions. Boys are running around, going "I'm Number One." It wasn't like that for young girls. With girls, if you miss the ball on a tackle and hit the other player, it's like, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry.

Instincts born of a childhood on the soccer field took over.

It was a little four-roomed cottage where the boy lived, and his mother—good soul!—gave us hot bacon for supper, and we ate it all—five pounds—and a jam tart afterwards, and two pots of tea, and then we went to bed.

I grew up with all boys in my family, where there was no place for girlie stuff. But it's amazing to walk into my house now. Everything is pink!

That day, as I contemplated the Medusa, I felt the shattering heartbreak of a long-forgotten memory. My mind carried me back to a moment when I was ten years old, left by my mother to wander alone in the Art Institute of Chicago, scared and confused, until a small colorful diptych by Giovanni di Paolo beckoned to me from across a gallery. A portal opened. A month later, my mother committed suicide. The portal slammed shut. I never looked at art again. Until I did. —

When I was a child, ladies and gentlemen, I was a dreamer. I read comic books and I was the hero of the comic book. I saw movies and I was the hero in the movie. So every dream I ever dreamed has come true a hundred times." He

When I was a kid, I could taste the difference between different colored M&Ms. I thought the red was heartier, more of a main course M&M. And the light brown was a mellower, kind of after-dinner M.

As a child, the only clear thought I had was "Get candy."

Everything about my mother was a source of prepubescent agony. On the low end of the Mortification Scale there was her name: Floncey.

From diapers on, I felt like there was something not good about me, but it was invisible to everybody but my mother. And whenever she looked at me, she had to let me know that she knew. That was her mission in life.