I was reading a friend's blog just now about several of her childhood memories and one of them happened at age seven and a half. It wasn't her memory or that particular age that jogged my memory of something, but her use of a fraction, the "half" part in her year.
I had a blast raising my children and tried to spend a great deal of time with them when they were very young. I would hug them often and tell them that I loved them. As a scientist my children were my greatest experiment! So imagine my surprise when my children claimed, as teenagers, that they have no childhood memories, bizarre. Teenagers.
My younger son was the more comical of the two for most of their lives until recently they have started to become and sound similar, to the point that now in their mid twenties I think I have twins (almost). So to "help" my younger son I made up several totally fictitious memories using the following procedure. I would create these artificial memories for him totally impromptu with a sweet kind nostalgic voice, "remembering" the good old days. I remember doing this about ten years ago during his teenage years.
(Please forgive me, I realize all this remembering sounds very confusing.)
A + B + C + D + E => Artificial Memory Session
A : Preamble - I would always begin these artificial memories with a random strange compound fraction, such as, "I remember when you were 4 and 3/4 and ..." and of course the number had little bearing on story. Sometimes the later events of a story were impossible for someone who was four years old, for instance, to drive an automobile, hunt elephants or pilot an airplane.
B : Part One - The first part of the memory would be something mundane that a child may or may not have been able to do, such as ski, operate a railroad locomotive or perform open heart surgery. The location would be somewhat exotic, Africa, Bolivia, China, or maybe just Fritch Texas.
C: Part Two - The "really wild part" - the internal punchline - would be some act of crime, heroism, or great physical feat of superhuman capability. There might be episodes where the child had become invisible, all his fingers fell off, or simply made burnt toast.
D : Ending - After finishing the second part of the memory I would have a grand strategic pause, and then say these exact words awash with great paternal pride:
" ... and you were so cute."
At this point my son would laugh or not laugh and do his part, -adolescent groan exhale- knowing that I was finished building him a memory.
E : Response - My son would vehemently respond that the memory didn't happen and usually ask me to stop. There would sometimes be a rebuttal, like, he claimed he had never been to North Korea, he still had all his original fingers or that he had absolutely no interest in ball room dancing. Sometimes he would beg his mother to ask me to stop. There was laughter. Some laughter. Usually more from me, it would just depend on the content, reaction and rebuttal.
I do not remember ANY of the eXact details of any one complete fictitious memory, but I remember the grand design, implementation and inventiveness. It was great fun and "we" played this silly memory game-slash-conversation probably three sessions, maybe more, that part I don't remember.
The next time I am with my son it will be interesting to ask him if he remembers any of this ABCDE Build-A-Memory game. Both children very clearly remember the time I tried to make my disastrous horribly tasting version of Heinz 57 Steak Sauce. Bad sauce is most likely stronger than fake formulaic memories. That reminds me that I need to check on my BBQ meat cooking on the stove right now before I forget and burn it!
Another one of our word games, this one from my son's college years:
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