For some reason, the memory just came back to me that when I was a real little kid, I never had any problem with eating bread crusts, but I knew plenty of kids that did - they would eat bread OK, but would be horrified at eating the crusts.

As for me, I distinctly remember that for some reason the concept of the hamburger freaked me out. (Obviously, this passed with time.) I can't recall why, now - the funny part was, I would eat the hamburger patty by itself just fine, and I would eat the roll by itself just fine - but putting the two together just broke my little brain.

Once I did start eating hamburgers proper, it took several more years before I could assimilate the concept of the cheeseburger.

Another thing that would freak me out when I was a little kid was having my picture taken. That one would send me into paroxysms of tears. No idea why, now.

To this day, I don't like sleeping in pitch darkness, which I suppose it not so unusual. I also never liked sleeping with my feet uncovered. This, I suspect, goes back to my childhood conviction that the Monsters That Lived Under the Bed somehow couldn't get me so long as my feet were covered. To this day, no matter how hot it is, I have to have something wrapped around my feet to sleep. Which is dumb when you think about it, because anything that could survive under my bed isn't going to be stopped by a blanket.

Another thing that freaked me out was loud thunderstorms - never liked them. Now, I'm OK with them as long as I'm not out in them. My graandparents' dog used to be freaked out by thunder. One time, when I was playing cards with Grandma, there was a loud clap of thunder, and the dog stood up and peed all over me, which didn't improve my mood, I can tell you. On the other hand, we had a cat that seemed to think that thunderstorms were a show put on for its benefit, and would sit in the window and watch them intently.

When we was kids, we used to say that thunder was the sound of the angels bowling.

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I can't remember anything in particular that frightened me as a kid. I don't think I was particularly fearless; I just don't remember anything in particular. I enjoyed crawling through small spaces and loved heights, I got left behind with regularity (fourth of four) and always found my way home (no abandonment issues), etc.

However, the hamburger thing does remind me of a revelation I had as a child the first time I realized you were supposed to put the mustard on the the baloney, and not on the bread. I thought the mustard was there to make the bread taste better. When I realized it was there to make the meat taste better, I was simply amazed. What a concept! It's weird what impresses a kid, and what the adult remembers.

Clowny's Kool-Aid Man story reminded me that as a kid, I mixed all the flavors of Kool-Aid together, just to see what would happen. The result was a murky brown liquid that tasted nauseating. When I poured it out in the back yard, it killed the grass.
Captain Comics said:
I can't remember anything in particular that frightened me as a kid. I don't think I was particularly fearless; I just don't remember anything in particular. I enjoyed crawling through small spaces and loved heights, I got left behind with regularity (fourth of four) and always found my way home (no abandonment issues), etc.

However, the hamburger thing does remind me of a revelation I had as a child the first time I realized you were supposed to put the mustard on the the baloney, and not on the bread. I thought the mustard was there to make the bread taste better. When I realized it was there to make the meat taste better, I was simply amazed. What a concept! It's weird what impresses a kid, and what the adult remembers.

Clowny's Kool-Aid Man story reminded me that as a kid, I mixed all the flavors of Kool-Aid together, just to see what would happen. The result was a murky brown liquid that tasted nauseating. When I poured it out in the back yard, it killed the grass.

Um, i still put the mustard on the bread. Then I put on the meat. Then I inhale the whole thing.
I was actually right there with ya one the feet thing for the same reason until a few years ago.I can handle my feet uncovered in the summer time (too damn hot), so I have gotten a little braver on the bed monsters.
I was either in the third or fourth grade, and I got a book about UFOs through the monthly book program. It was all about people who claimed to have been abducted by aliens, and all of the abductions took place in rural areas. We lived in a rural area, on the end of a dirt road, and the book freaked me out. I was sure I would be abducted some night, and that went on for about two or three years.

For many years, I couldn't look at, let alone eat, scrambled eggs. Fry 'em, boil 'em, heck serve 'em to me raw and that was just fine; but scrambled would make me gag.

I'm pretty sure I know why, though. Sunday morning breakfast was a big to do at my grandparents house. The whole family would attend church together, gathering at my grandparents home for her weekly breakfast feast, thereafter. Bacon and eggs with ham, pancakes, oatmeal, etc. If you would typically eat it for breakfast, my grandmother would prepare it. The problem was, she couldn't cook. Most of my family preferred their eggs scrambled, so that's what they got. Always so runny that you needed a sponge to eat them. To top it off, both my uncle and grandfather liked ketchup on their eggs. Their plates reminded me of lumps of bloody chicken flesh swimming in embryotic fluid.  Needless to say, I opted for the oatmeal.

It used to upset me when I would get the same prize in my cereal box week after week, in spite of the box offering one of several different prizes.

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