Like the Fresh Prince said, sometimes parents just don't understand.

I've been thinking a lot lately about the classic adult/child disconnect. It seems to be generally accepted that adults don't "get" kids or, at least, kids don't think so. I don't know if it's actually true, though. I've certainly seen my share of clueless adults. I also remember thinking, as a child, that I wouldn't forget what it was like to be a child. I have no idea if I've succeeded.

Dodi made a reference the other day to our "Inner Child", but I'm not convinced that we have an Inner Child. It's an interesting pop psychology idea - to label our desires to have a simpler life as a wish to return to childhood. How much of this wish is based on the reality of our childhoods and how much is based on the fact that we simply don't remember our childhoods very well. From age 33, my childhood is a glossy blur. I have some clear memories, although I couldn't say how old I was when they happened. I have vague images of places and scenes, sometimes loaded with emotional content, but how much of that content is from the time and how much is my projection of how I feel about the scene than what I actually felt at the time?

Probably my earliest childhood memory, and I must have been pretty young at the time, since my father was carrying me pretty high up. He brings me into the kitchen of our old house where my mom is cooking breakfast on the stove. They ask my if I want oatmeal, which I do. I can picture the kitchen fairly clearly, but not my parents faces. I just remember being comfortable and happy. I'm pretty sure it actually happened, probably a number of times. I look back fondly on this memory as a perfect symbol of my early years. Safe, warm, fed - doesn't get any better than that.

What about the negative memories? Once in Kindergarten I was sitting on the pot and some jerk barged in on me. Once I was done I came out and smacked him . . . of course I got in trouble. I was outraged that the teacher wouldn't even listen to my side of the story! Injustice, thy name is Kindergarten teachers. Even now, it stings a little. This, and other similar incidents have made me appreciate the value of justice and rules fairly enforced.

I wonder, though, will I be able to connect to my child? Really understand what they are going through? While my home life was idyllic, I spent most of my school life as a social outcast. Admittedly, some of it was self imposed, but for the most part it was conform or be cast out. As much as I hated it at the time, it is clearly a big part of who I am. It wasn't until JC that I figured out that I didn't care what other people though and was much happier.  However, it was those early challenges helped me develop as a person and I feel like a stronger individual for having gone through it.

The irony here is that if I get a kid who is kinda weird and a social outcast, I'll actually be in a much better position to help them out.  What if my kid is a jock?  Or a Princess?  What do I know about being normal?  Dodi and I joke that with a name like Celerity she's destined to be a track star . . does that mean that I have a bunch of track meets in my future?  Ugh.  Anyway, if she is a weirdo like her parents, is it in her and our best interests to teach her how to be "normal", or better to let her suffer the slings and arrows of growing up different?

Crazy stuff, that's for sure.

Share your character shaping childhood memories in the comments!