I was about 3, maybe ever 4. I was very small. In the kitchen we were all eating dinner. Peter, Adam, Alex, mom, dad, and I. The memory still is pretty vague because it is so old.
We all finished dinner. Everyone was cleaning up there plates and bowls and putting everything away. I was still sitting at the table with my sister Alex. My dad made us chocolate milkshakes, hers was vanilla. We always had opposite flavor a like that. If I got pink, she got purple, always, it was never exactly the same.
After dinner we were all just talking about stuff standing in different sections of the kitchen. I was the smallest in the family at this point, and the youngest. I went to go and let our dog, Dollar. He was laying by the counter sniffing for the food on top of it.
I walked away from him and went to the cabinet. The handles to open the cabinet were very high. To high for me to get on my tippy toes, and every jumping. I was that small at the time. I was so made I couldn’t reach it and open it up. There was nothing in there I even wanted to get, I just wanted to open it up.
My dad came over and laughed because I was not able to open it. He opened it for me instead. Then I just closed it right away and started from the beginning again.
Even though this is not the best memory, and there really is no plot to it. I believe it is definitely my earliest. I was to small to open up a cabinet at the time, that now when I open it it is like a joke to me. Whenever I open it now I laugh and think of that memory, because I’m so much taller than the handle at this point.