What were you doing at the age of 3? – IOTW Report

What were you doing at the age of 3?

Sunday, 6 September 2020, 21:49 BFH Uncategorized 46

The most interesting sound I made was spitting up creamed corn.

What the hell?

46 Comments on What were you doing at the age of 3?

  13. Three, hmm? I was learning about gaseous fluid dynamics, the effects of parasitic drag on spherical objects accelerated into ballistic arcs, and the shape of those arcs as a function of initial vector and impetus.

    In other words, I was having fun learning how to hit things with my pea shooter.

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  14. Pretty sure I was at Doheny beach california plowing the sand with my head pretending I was a bulldozer. I got 8mm movies to prove it.
    Weird, now that I think about it, I operate an old International TD6 crawler/loader also a new excavator on the weekends. The good times don’t have to stop.

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  16. I don’t know, guys. There must be something either about genetics or expectations. Our 3 year old adopted daughter of Chinese descent, could recite the entire “Cat in the Hat”. I started her on violin in kindergarten, she earned her black belt in TKD at 10, graduated a year early from the Foster School of Business in Economics/Marketing and had her accounting coursework out of the way as a senior in H.S. through Running Start at a local community college.

    Was I a “tiger mom”? Yes. But I had to do something! The kid was way too bright and energetic — and she still managed to find the normal teenager troubles to get into!

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  17. According to my parents, when I was three I was talking, talking, talking. Everyone asked where I learned to talk like an adult. My parents replied that they were wondering the same thing.
    I recall playing with my Grandmother’s black cat when I was three. The cat was named something I can’t mention or I’ll be banned.

    8

  19. lessee … at the age of 3 I was yelling at my mom to hurry up & go down to the store & get me a couple fresh packs of cigarettes. bitchin’ at the old man for buying that cheap Blatz beer, instead of the Natty Bo’s. watching the ‘Mickey Mouse Club’ & taking bets w/ my buds in the row houses on how big Annette’s sweater meat will get this season. complaining how Elvis’ fame had gone to his head w/ that Cadillac purchase….

    seriously, my old man was teaching me how to swing a baseball bat from both sides
    … got the pics to prove it

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  22. I was 3 in 1956, I really don’t remember a whole lot from back then. I don’t really think I remember much before I was 5 although my mom used to tell me I was really excited seeing trains since we lived in the Spokane Valley at the time close by the railroad tracks where I could see the trains going by. And there was an old guy named Mr. Lyle who lived next door who thought I was a hoot the way that I carried on about trains. And I remember the Bugs Bunny stickers on the wall at Deaconess Hospital walls when I had my tonsils taken out when I was 5. Before 1957 or 58 it was all a blur with my mom and and dad having 4 boys between 1953-58. And calling Sugar Pops horsies because of Kellogg’s Sugar Pops Pete’s horse when I went to the local Safeway with my mom. We didn’t get a TV, an old B&W Westinghouse till I was 5 and I was probably better not watching TV before then.

    5

  23. Capturing bees that loved the clover in our lawn, under mason ball jars. My poor father had to let the very mad bees out when he got home from work. This went on until I got my fanny swatted.

    4

  25. At 3 I think I was done crapping my trousers… at least until I was 23 and crapped my trousers again. I remember I was replacing a door knob. Like SNS, I’ll leave that story for a different day.

    What I do remember was Jimi Hendrix, Clapton, and Joe Cocker wasn’t classic rock. Traffic was played daily.

    7

  27. Damn, I thought my grandbabies were geniuses. At 3 my grandson was reading small books, could add and subtract double digits, could easily write his name, could knock the crap out of a baseball. 2 years later he still loves math, but hates reading and writing, has to be forced to do that, but has expanded loving science. Not the biggest fan of baseball anymore, but beats me at H-O-R-S-E all the time and can play the drums.
    My granddaughter at 3 can play 3 blind mice and twinkle twinkle little star on the piano, this little girl blew that out of the water….lol, she can write her name, can read, and can add single digit numbers, but no subtraction, she unlike her brother hates numbers, she can switch hit pretty darn good, but that probably has a lot to do with she’s left handed and everyone else in the family is right handed, poor kid doesn’t even have any cousins who are left handed, so through imitation does lots of things with her right hand as well.

    Myself at 3 was pretty dumb I guess, because I don’t remember doing anything.

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  28. 3 years old? I was seeing pink buildings outside the window.

    Of course, I was hallucinating due to a fever while in the hospital. Why pink? It was my favorite color. Still is.

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  31. At the age of three farmed out to German nanny Elsa Geck because my mother did not like children. Elsa was Catholic so daily visits to the Frauenkirche for Mass and candle lighting. Walking with Elsa to Zeppelinfeld from our apartment almost daily to run and play with other kids. Lots of early history lessons in the places where the history happened. I couldn’t play Chopsticks on the piano much less Mozart.

    4

  32. When I was 3 my dad was teaching me to read. By 5 I could read the front page of the newspaper, with comprehension. This was in 1964 in small-town Indiana, so they didn’t know what to do with me. They advanced me from Kindergarten to 1st grade (they wanted to advance me to 2nd but didn’t think I’d handle that well. They were correct; I’m not sure I handled being advanced 1 grade well. Anyway, that’s what I was doing at 3.

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  36. I very vaguely remember going to San Francisco in my dad’s maroon 53 Packard Clipper to visit one of my dads older brothers about 1956 or 57. We did go to the SF zoo of which I remember little unlike my son when he was 3 when we went to Calgary to visit my wife’s sister who was going to nursing school there and we took him to the Calgary Zoo. That little very active stinker tried to scale the fence where the zebras were and was halfway up the fence until my father in law and I pulled him down from the fence. He would’ve made it if we hadn’t caught him and I might be minus one kid. Fortunately his wife of 10 years and 2 daughters have settled him down.

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  41. Well, I know I was breathing anyway – that, and performing other bodily functions.

    Now if you had asked me what I was doing at age four, wellll now, that’s a horse of a different color. That’s right, I was watching “The Wizard of OZ”.

    4

  46. My experience with Asian piano students is quite interesting. One family, Chinese, had two boys, and both went on to conservatory. I had them into the intermediate years. I didn’t have to tell them to practice. They practiced before bed and upon getting up. One was six years old. His four year old brother would stand beside the piano and silently wat h his big brother learn, soaking it all in. By the time he started a few months later, he already knew everything his older brother could play. Teaching them was a joy. I never once saw the dragon mother come out.
    My Vietnamese students were another story all together. They were trying to turn their sons into prodigies. I must have been their fourth teacher. Every Saturday the younger boy would cry at his lesson. The older boy was only interested in math and architecture. I taught him Bach. He made the connections. Even after mastering a difficult piece of music, the mother would say, Is that all they can play. I wrote her a letter, firing her and saying why. She sought me ought to apologize years later. Last I heard they were in Hong Kong. Dad’s an architect.
    By far, my favorites were the Filipinos. I learned how to teach a talented boy who could outwit me ten ways from Sunday. Their parents treated me like family and made the most delicious adobo chicken with rice and lumpia. That boy also went on to become a fine pianist. Good times. And sad. The Sicilians, on the other hand, require a long essay.

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