I remember being a child, but in a vague and nonspecific way. I only remember particular details occasionally.
When I was growing up, soda was a rare treat, and a fountain soda from a restaurant was my favorite of all rare treats. We had an ice cream stand in our neighborhood (I ended up working there when I was in high school) and when we went for ice cream in the summer, I would often order a soda instead of ice cream. "Really?" my mother would say. "That's all you want?" Yes, it was, and I could make it last for an hour, chewing all of the ice cubes once the drink was gone. I never chew ice now; in fact, I shudder at the thought of chewing ice.
8yo also loves soda, and he also hardly ever gets any (unless I'm not home, when apparently, it becomes like a damn free-for-all around here. I digress.) We had lunch today at our beloved Tastee Diner, and 8yo, for once not finishing his Sprite within moments of receiving it, had the cup with him in the backseat of the car. After the third noisy end of the cup slurp, I issued a cease and desist order. A few minutes later, I heard the unmistakable muffled wet crunch of an eight year old eating ice cubes. He asked my husband to change the radio station, from sports news to music. I remembered how nice it was to be eight years old, munching on ice cubes in the back seat of the car, hoping that my favorite song would come on the radio.