What? They had names?

I was the oldest of four, so two, four and six respectively on my siblings. Learned my first sisters name when my mom was changing her diaper one day. My mom told me this, that I was watching the process and suddenly blurted out, Take her back to the hospital, she’s broken! Mom asked what I meant by that and I told her that, She doesn’t have a dingy she can’t go tinkle! Mom said she almost fell she almost fell over laughing, then told me that little girls don’t have dingies! LOL

I’m lucky I can still remember their names. Never mind, when I first realized they had names. That’s going way too far back.

Interesting Q.

I don’t know. I would have heard them from birth. Their parents and siblings addressed them by name or nickname that was not “Daddy” and “Mummy,” and I had older cousins who called my parents Aunt (name) and Uncle (name). That was a good clue.

I remember a little bit of confusion at an early age, when I found out that someone else’s Daddy wasn’t who I meant by “Daddy,” but little kids seem pretty good at figuring that stuff out fast.

@Nomore_lockout, my mother recalled my watching her change my baby brother’s diaper and asking very forlornly, “How come he’s so fancy and I’m so plain?”

How on earth would I remember that 75 years later? Probably when I was three. My mom said I was born talking, although it took me a few months to get the pronunciation correct, so I suspect their names came easy. My parents always called each other Mommy and Daddy.

As far as I can remember, I always knew their names. My parents called each other by their first names, in addition to honey and sweetie, and all of our adult neighbors were addressed by their first names, rather than Mr. or Mrs. Jones, even by all of the children in our neighborhood. And my cousins referred to my parents as Aunt Mary and Uncle John (as an example, I’m not using their actual names). I also knew the names of most of my extended family at a very early age.

I was probably age three or four when I learned my brother and sister’s names. My parents were just mum and dad to me until I was a good bit older. I suppose I must have known my own name at an even younger age and I must have known my family name when I stated school but I don’t remember.

For as long as I can remember I knew the names of my mom, dad, sister, and aunts.

My grandparents I remember finding out their names, I must have been around age 5. My grandparents were called mom and dad by my parents, so I didn’t hear their names, except when my maternal grandparents called each other by their names, and I think I became aware around 5 years old. My paternal grandmother died before I was born.

I also remember being very young and figuring out my grandparents were my mom’s parents. Relatives all seemed linear to me before that, like the family organization was very flat. Plus, it seemed odd to me my mom had parents, it was like she was the mom of all moms before that. I was probably in nursery school, so 3 or 4 years old. There were several times as a youngster that I can remember figuring out family relations. Like being surprised my aunt Fanny was my cousins’ nanny Fanny. I thought to everyone she was aunt Fanny. (Should aunt be capitalized?).

That must have been right after I had learned to ride a bicycle.

It is really hard to narrow down something like that. It would be like asking at what age did you learn to brush your own teeth. Young children can not mark events in their early years. Like my earliest memory was wearing a white mini wedding gown for my uncles wedding. I had no idea of my age. I remember it was before I started school and I know I was 4 years old because my parents told me I was 4 and there are pictures.

I don’t recall exactly but definately in elementary. My family was very overprotective so they made sure the phone number, address and everything was memorized early.

I do remember wandering off at age 3 and getting picked up by the police. I was able to tell them my father’s full name (middle initial and all), and that we lived at the college nearby.

My parents always called each other by pet names, so I never heard them speak their names to each other.

STORY TIME
I’m pretty sure I was two, because my brother was born when I was two, and I knew my brother’s name as soon as he came home. I already knew my mom’s name was Ball and Chain, and my dad’s name was shut the door. I knew our phone number when I was three. We were on a party line. I didn’t know our ring until I was eight or nine, but I knew the fire ring years before that. For those who don’t know, with a party line each home has their own number, but if someone picks up during your call, you can hear them, and they can hear your conversation. They can’t make or receive calls while someone else on the party line is on the line. Sucks when someone hangs up sloppy, and never cuts the connection. Nobody can use their phone until that person notices.
The fire ring goes to everybody, and is a long ring. The fire department was, and still is all volunteer. When the fire ring goes you pick up and they tell everyone the details. Our nearest neighbor, across the road from the lane to our house, once had a barn fire. Men lined up from the well to the barn. Buckets were filled, and passed from man to man, and thrown on the fire. Empty buckets went back the same way.
Women grabbed rugs and towels and drenched them, slamming the ground to put out burning grass to keep it from spreading. That was usually the first wave, to hold things back until the truck could get there. In that case, the well was too far away. Buckets were tossed all night. The barn was a total loss, but the house was spared, and no livestock were harmed.
All the hay to get cattle through the winter was in the barn. The cattle had to be sold, and soon after, the farm.

When I was five I knew the first names of dozens of aunt’s, uncle’s, cousins.
Family cookouts were awesome, and hosted at a different relative’s house each time. I had to know names young, because, “give this to cousin Melvin. Go ask Uncle Bruce if he wants chicken or pork chops, and does he want tea, water, or lemonade?” Thirty to sixty people would be at each gathering. You had to know names, because kids ran in and out with plates and messages until all adults had their food. Kids are last. These went through the summer. All the men went to one farm to get fields plowed and planted, then another, until they were all done. Wives dropped them off, then went back for lawn chairs, tv trays, a food item, kids.
I loved it, and I wish my mom had never dragged us away from that awesome annual summer crazy bruhaha.

I too wandered off at the age of three while my parents listened to the Coronation on the radio. I got quite a distance before a bus picked me up and drove me home. I was able to recognise my street and my house and I think I gave the driver my name though I am no longer sure. The Coronation on the radio. How boring was that.

I started to learn my parents’ names around the age of 3, you learn their name just as you learn to speak, by hearing the words. Just as if a white American baby that could not speak yet, was adopted by Mexicans, it would hear the words and it would start to speak spanish.

I knew some names by at least age 4 or 5. I distinctly remember reading a book that was written about my family (not really, but I thought it was) when I was 4 or 5. It was about a couple named The Browns, and one day they decided they wanted to have a child. So they went to an agency and waited and waited and finally got a little boy who they named “my real life brother’s name”. And they were happy. Then one day they decided they’d like to have a brother or sister for “little boy”, so they went to an agency and waited and waited a long time and finally got a little girl who they named “my real name”. And they were happy.

The story doesn’t go on to say they adopted another little girl, but they did, and I questioned why they got our last name wrong, but I figured out that the makers of the book didn’t want us to be famous and mess up our lives.

The End