I’m pretty sure I used to show people a two with my fingers when they asked my age when I was three. And that’s not a tale my parents tell so I think it is genuinely my memory. It’s the only old memory where I have some kind of specific age reference for myself.
I also remember playing that I sold “ice” (literally ice cubes) with my tricycle and a wooden tablet and being frustrated about how my string construction couldn’t hold the tablet correctly. In my mind I was four at the time.
I remember helping my friend Mr Peter from next door lay cobble stones.
And I remember showing off my toy cars to my father’s American host-sisters and talking Norwegian with them because that was the only foreign language I knew.
Ooh, and I remember being disgusted by the neighbour’s daughter. We were playing shop and she had some small toothpaste samples and she’d squeeze them out and I hated the smell.
I remember Timo who was an asshole but he gifted me a ton of Transformers stickers but I think they were stolen because they were all the same.
And another friend was cool because he had those awesome spaceships with magnets on them where you could stick the figures which had magnets in their feet. He actually wanted to check in again a few years ago but I didn’t have any time and I only remembered him for his cool toys anyways, which seemed to be a little disingenuous from me.
I can place all these memories at about 2-5 years old because we then moved to another town.