How old is your oldest memory?

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My oldest memories are probably somewhere between one and two years old.....

I remember my mom being pregnant with my sister (my sister is only two years younger than me, so it had to be before my second birthday). I thought she got pregnant just so that I would have "a friend"..... I was obsessed with having a friend when I was a baby.

I also remember (probably around the same time) being annoyed that my crib was going to be given to my baby sister. But my dad built me a "big kid bed" and customized it to me, so that made everything better. I remember demanding that my bed have a heart on it. He carved a heart in the headboard.

I have another very vague memory of the family dog. Possibly from before I turned one. I can't say. I woke up in the morning to the sound of the dog running laps around the house. My parents told me this was a very old memory.

This is a fun thread.... I read everyone's posts

I have been trying to understand which is my earliest memory. I used to play with my stuffed toys in bed at night. One day, my parents bought me some little china pigs at a fete and my dad said as he put me to bed 'If I hear you playing with those, they're going in the bin.'

Of course I played with them, my dad heard me, he came into my room and took the pigs away. I cried inconsolably for a very long time. When I came downstairs in the morning, the pigs were sitting on the kitchen windowsill. I think I might have been 4 or 5.

There is a memory where I think I'm 3 or 4, I won't go into detail as could be triggering but I told one of my parents 'I wish I could kill you.' I don't know why, and I said it to the parent who I have always had the better relationship with so this memory is very confusing.

I remember eating a berry from a tree outside then being sick on the carpet in the hall. It was a dark red carpet, and I remember the door to the living room had glass panels in it. This could be anywhere from 3-6 years old.

I was at playschool when I was 3. My mum failed to pick me up on time and I ran to the teacher and held her hand. I was the last kid left. I remember the terror at being abandoned and then the relief when she turned up.

Around two years old and being out in the snow on the paved back yard.
I had a little plastic shovel and scooped up some snow, then tossed it off the shovel. I remember being amazed at the way the snow held the shape of the shovel as it fell, like a small tile - and then annoyed as I was pulled back inside by my mum: I wanted to explore this weird phenomenon.

Another time, same age, I was screaming with fear at a thunderstorm with my head buried deep in the corner of a soft, deep maroon colored velvet-coated armchair/cushion.

Also playing with a pressed tin clockwork train set, the track arranged in a small circle on the cold tan-colored linoleum and mum catching it with her foot and almost falling over. That was the first time I remember my name being shouted in anger, and my hot tears of uncomprehension/frustration which followed. There's an astonishingly clear and tiny detail of one section of track and how the sleepers and bedding pebbles were simply printed onto the moulded surface.

Older, probably around 3-1/2, I thought it would be a good idea to take my younger sister for a walk in her pushchair which was sitting outside in the sun - and neglecting to tell mum. I just walked off with it and was eventually found a way up the road by my elder sister, who brought me back to a near-hysterical mother leaning out of a window above the street door. I was quite puzzled by all the commotion.
That building, the door and the window above it still exist - I visited it as an adult and was quite overwhelmed by forgotten memories and feelings.

I had something similar, feeling like I needed someone to play with. I remember sitting in my mom's lap, in the rocking chair, telling her that I wanted a brother. I'd guess that she was probably already pregnant by that point, but not sure.

The irony is that once he was born, he was too little to play with, and when he got older, we kind of fought a lot. Oops.

I was 3 and I heard my father coming to bed singing an Adam Faith hit.

I don't remember how old I was but my mom doesn't believe me when I tell her I remember this.

Coming home from a forced visit with my biological mother. She thinks I have ZERO memory of these visits. I don't remember the visits themselves but I remember going to them and coming back to my parents' house. If my mom believed me about the ones I do remember, maybe I would remember more.

I also had LOTS of vivid dreams around that same age and even went through a phase where I didn't know what was a dream and what was real. But there's nothing goofy about the memory of my dad holding me while my brother's play Super Mario on the SNES. That's all I remember.