We cant deny the fact that for so a hundred times, we have done some dumb and weird things during our childhood. Some of us might have tasted poop, decided to jump into a deep swimming pool, chew on chilies, and almost got ourselves killed. The stories below are very few of what we have gathered from Quora community revealing the dumbest thing they did as kids.
Comments have been edited for clarity. The source can be found the end of the article.
I tried to make my own Powerpuff girls.
When I was some 5 years old, I was always curious while watching the show of how Professor Utonium created those girls. The starting theme of the show gave some instructions (sugar, spice and everything nice) but I never got to know what is the coveted chemical X.
Then in one of the episodes,, it was shown that Mojo Jojo made Rowdyruff boys by accidentally dropping everything in the toilet. EUREKA!!
Next thing I did, I gathered all my toys and things which were fun (everything nice), some sugar and salt to create my own Powerpuff Girls. I threw everything I owned in the toilet, and flushed. Expecting to see some creatures flying out, I was disappointed when I saw nothing but everything getting ruined and making loud noises.
My mom came running to see and demanded an explanation. I tried my best but she just couldn’t understand. If only she knew how big of a genius I was. Sigh.
I don’t remember how old I was. I don’t even remember the incident very well. But this has been told to me so many times that I just can not forget it.
Bindi is a forehead decoration. You can read more about it
Just like kids love to play with anything they can lay their hands on, I just grabbed a bindi from somewhere and started to play with it, trying to put it on my forehead (no grown up guy would like to do that). As is the habit with kids – trying to taste – whatever is in their hands, I somehow brought it close to my mouth and managed to inhale it(I didn’t have a better phrase). I did not realize how dangerous it might be, just went to my mother and said “Binni, Binni” pointing to my nose. After a few minutes when my mother realized what had happened, she panicked and took me to an ENT specialist.
He advised a minor surgery to take the Bindi out. Then a miracle happened. I sneezed and the Bindi came out. My mother breathed a sigh of relief. I still didn’t know what was so special that we had to go to a doctor for such a small thing.
I just remember playing with the Bindi and trying to explain to my mother the unique feat I had been able to achieve. I don’t remember what happened after that. But I have been told this story time and again. It is impossible to forget this.
I once almost burned down one of our family homes. 77 Westbury Road, Dover, Kent, England, UK.
It happened just before Christmas in 1956 when I was 5 years-old and living with my divorced step-mother and her three daughters: Georgina (aged 15), Sylvia (17), and Rosalie (19).
As the only man of the house, I was used to getting a lot of attention, but on one particular day my family were all so busy, busy, busy preparing lunch that no one had any time for me. In a dark mood, I retreated to the lounge and squeezed into an armchair that had been my very own personal space for as long as I could remember: 10 Queen Street, Dover, United Kingdom, aged about 2.
Set against the adjacent wall to the left of the armchair was a much-decorated Christmas tree, and in the adjacent wall to the right blazed a very cozy coal fire. I glanced from one to the other and began to wonder if the candles on the tree might look a little bit better if they were actually alight.
Decision made, I took a candle off of the tree, lit it, and then used it to light one of the other candles.
I guess the tree must have been sprayed with something because as the candle-flame grew, it suddenly set fire to a branch above. For a second or two I felt intense fear – until my wildly-waving hands finally managed to put the flames out.
Somewhat breathless, I returned to my chair and began exploring the rapidly receding fear. As my heart rate returned to normal, I foolishly came to the conclusion that maybe fear wasn’t too hard to handle, after all.
I then got up and lit another candle on the Christmas tree…
This time, the flames leaped from the bottom to the top of the tree with one almighty, “WHOOSH!”. I stared in stunned amazement for a brief moment and then went rushing from the room to find Rosie, easily my favorite sister – and the least likely member of my family to beat me to a pulp:
“Rosie, Rosie, can you come in the lounge with me?”
“Not now, John – I’m busy.”
I gave her about ten seconds to un-busy herself and then tried again: “Come into the lounge, Rosie, please?”
“Lunch is just about ready – I’ll come into the lounge afterwards, OK?”
No, it wasn’t OK, but I couldn’t articulate what I had done and so I gave up asking.
Lunch was a surreal experience. I sat there with head down and listened as the rest of the family discussed what they were going to do with the rest of their day:
“I’m going shopping!” (Er, probably not…)
“I’m meeting my boyfriend!” (I really, really doubt it…)
As soon as the meal was over, I grabbed Rosie’s skirt and pulled her towards what my imagination told me would be a blazing inferno:
“Come into the lounge, Rosie!”
“After I’ve helped clear the dishes away, John!”
“But you PROMISED!!”
“Oh, for God’s sake…”
Rosalie opened the door to the lounge, took two steps inside, and then froze: “Oh – MUM!!!” she screamed.
Rosie must have been in shock because she didn’t move for several seconds. I squeezed past her, stuck my head around the edge of the door, and gazed upon a scene of smoky devastation:
The flames from the burning Christmas tree had first set light to the paper decorations on the surrounding wall, and then they had raced around those pinned on every other wall of the room, turning all to ash.
The fire also incinerated decorations that had been suspended in loops from corner to diagonal corner across the room, plus those that had been looped between the mid-points of opposing walls. Not one decoration escaped a fiery death.
My enduring memory is of a formerly colorful paper ball, about 9 inches in diameter, that had once been fixed to the center of the ceiling but which now lay darkly menacing in the middle of the carpet, lazily issuing small plumes of smoke.
It looked very much like the burnt remains of a Christmas pudding that had been drenched in too much brandy before being set alight! Typical honeycomb paper ball Christmas decoration. The fire had traveled so fast, however, that not much else had been damaged – and part of me still wishes I could have seen it happen (particularly the flaming ball as it fell!)
In the chaos that followed, everyone was so busy, busy, busy with clearing the room up that they completely forgot to tell me off. Mind you, we didn’t have any Christmas decorations whatsoever for the next two years.
I tried to prove that girls can pee standing.
This traces back to the second or third grade. I wondered how was it that guys could pee standing. That gave them the advantage of peeing anywhere they wanted, especially in cases of urgency. That was unfair. I thought it was because their pants had a zipper. But then I discovered, we have zippers too. Perhaps we can pee standing too, just someone needed to set the trend.
The day came when we were at a relative’s marriage party, and I needed to pee urgently. My mom took me to the washroom and I decided to prove it.
I came out with wet pants. My mom didn’t understand how her little genius suddenly managed to wet her pants completely after years of peeing properly. I spent the rest of the party in the car. I was still unable to understand why I failed.
Yeah. I get the reason now.
Well, aside from the, Ive done several other excessively stupid things that have made my parents truly question my intelligence, some of which include:
- Challenging my friend to a somersaulting race. I overestimated the distance needed to reach the finish line and somersaulted straight into the wall, where my head created a fairly wide hole in the side of our sitting room.
- Walked across the back parking lot of my school without paying attention to the huge truck that driving towards me. I almost got run over that day.
- Thinking my eyebrows were too thick and using a shaving razor to pull some hairs out. Half my eyebrow went missing that day. The worst part? I tried to lie to my mom, telling her I had no idea how a part of my eyebrow disappeared.
- Trying to eat a frozen spring roll straight from the box since I didnt know how to fry food. It was disgusting and I threw it away, telling my parents I had no idea how the spring roll disappeared and that she must have bought an already open box.
Take your pick. Im pretty dumb.
I have a history of shocking incidents.
1. Age 8-9
I had gone with my family to visit my maternal grandparents for a few days. This was during monsoons. The concrete outer walls were damp most of the time. And due to some faulty wiring there was a little electricity flowing through a particular portion of the wall. When I first accidentally touched it I instinctively pulled back my hand after feeling the ‘tingle’.
But curiosity got the better of me and I touched the wall again and pulled back my hand very quickly. I quite liked it! And so I did it again and again and again…. and again. And some more the next day. Only on the third day did I tell my sister, and she of course went and told my parents! The two evenings of the ‘electric high’ combined with my mother’s slap made the third evening even hazier.
2. Age 10 – I was sitting at home bored during winter vacations. There was no power (This is Bihar we are talking about). Switched on our small b&w ‘Weston’ TV using a car battery (common in most households).
This is close to what the battery looked like.
Okay, it was a lot cleaner but you get the picture right? The battery was connected to the TV using mini jumper cables. The jumper cables at the other end looked like what laptop charger pins look like these days. I used to love rubbing the clamps on the battery terminals to create sparks! But I’d done plenty of that and I was bored again. So I pulled out the pin from the TV and looked at it and then touched it and quickly pulled back my hand (That’s how I used to test if there is current flowing through something back in those days) Nothing happened. That’s because the pin conducting the electricity is inside the outer protective cylinder. But I didn’t know this then. The next thing I did was pretty foolish. Very confidently I took the pin and placed it on my tongue! I can still hear the atomic implosion in my head sometimes :-
3. Age 14
This one’s not foolish as I didn’t intend it to happen.
My friends and I were looking for our Cricket ball in the woods outside the fence of the playground. There was a small bamboo grove and an especially long shoot lay broken on the ground. For no reason (like many other things we do as kids) I picked it up and started waving it around in the air screaming like Rambo. The next thing I knew I was waking up on the floor with my friends peering over me. I had no clue what had happened. But being very familiar with what electric shock feels like I soon knew I had received one. It took a while to deduce how.
The tip of the bamboo had fallen on the wires running overhead. But how? Bamboos don’t conduct electricity right? Well, this one did, as it was young and green and still had water inside. All my friends refused to believe me (We were all ‘Science is my religion’ nerds). But when I dared them to try it out using the bamboo, of course everyone chickened out. 🙂
The next day our Biology teacher confirmed that young Bamboo will indeed conduct electricity.
You’d expect I’d be something like Thor by now, or at least like this guy. But no, a number of other shocking incidents later, I am now the unremarkable guy I was meant to be!
Or I think so. Wait I’m confused…
This is gonna be embarrassing.
Dad got me a shiny new red bicycle when I was 8. My first love.
I’d be found competing in silly races with kids in the neighborhood nearly all day. Be it early morning, or late night, I was a free bird. Learning to do all kinds of stunts(the bike had side wheels :P) and speeding like crazy.
Dad put a boundary limit beyond, which I was forbidden to venture. Essentially, I was not to go beyond the block lanes. This didn’t really bother me for a while. I think you can guess where the story goes from here.
One day I decided I’ve had enough of the street play and it’d be fun to take on the main road where the monster trucks and sports cars used to play. I considered myself an expert driver now, having beaten most of the kids in the block.
Once out on the main road, I went into a frenzy. I (stupidly) thought it’ll be cool to compete with a Honda City, and started cycling like crazy, though still along the side of the road, away from trouble.
Soon enough, the only thing I had eyes for was the city.
My bike was right in the middle of the road, and I was having the time of my life.
And just then-
A split second later-
My happy place bubble burst and evaporated on the spot. Boy, I was on the wrong side of the road! And the guy in the car just behind me had put on emergency brakes to avoid hitting me.
But the guy right behind him, was not so fast. I was stunned for a moment, when time stood still, and it felt like everyone was looking at me with accusation-filled eyes, but I came to life a second later and pedalled away as fast as my cycle would carry me.
My heartbeat twice as normal, I circled around the neighborhood for a while, in fear of people finding out my home. Turns out they never did. And I didn’t tell anyone about it. 🙂
When I was in 2nd standard, I finished two-hourlong Math paper in 20 minutes and received a slap for it from my father.
When I was in 2nd standard, it was the firsttime I received a printed question paper in the examination. My first examsubject was Math and I was good in Math. So after prayer, we went to ourclasses to write the exams and within 10 minutes, the teacher handed us thequestion paper and the answer copy.
There were 5 parts in the question paper andeach part consisted of 3 questions and on the top of the question paper, it waswritten in bold letters Attempt onlythree. I was on cloud nine after reading this line and didnt botherto clarify this with the teacher.
So I solved all the 3 questions of first part in20 minutes and handed the answer copy to the teacher. Even the teacher wassurprised and asked whether I finished the whole paper or not. I made the samestatement again. Yes, I am good in math. While leaving the class, I waswalking as slow as possible so that whole class can see that boy who justfinished question paper in 20 minutes.
When I reached home in next 10 minutes, myfather was getting ready for office. After seeing me returning so early, heasked What happened to your exam? I replied, I finished the paper in 20minutes. It was easy and short. My father asked me to show him the questionpaper. He asked me again which 3 parts I solved in the exam? With no clue whatis going to happen within next few seconds, I said all the 3 questions of partA. You guys know what happened next.
Next day my father went to my school and convinced the teacher to conduct a separate exam for me. This time Ifinished the paper in 1 hour and 30 mins but still waited for the remaining 30mins, so that I dont receive a slap for it.
I was 9 years old at the time. Unfortunately, my mother closed the car door on her finger. After weeks in a plaster, we could finally see her pinky finger again.
Being the curious little chap I was, I wanted to know why she still visited the doctor every week. Always wanting to improve my vocabulary, my mother said she was going to exercise her finger to make it strong again, its called physiotherapy.
Next week, some relatives came over, and asked where my mother was. Naturally, I wanted show off my newfound knowledge. So I told them exactly where she had gone, much to their shock.
She has gone to do chemotherapy, aunty!
I set the house on fire using just a magnifying glass.
As a kid I was all fascinated with fire, still am, but at that time it was it sheer sorcery for me how things burnt, charred, the smoke ascended in air, and mostly how the colorful flames danced in the air.
Of course I pestered my parents on letting me play with it, to get my hands on a match-box, but how could they? At last being the doting father my dad was, at an age of around 5, I was introduced to the magical device called a magnifying glass, which when held in sunlight so as to focus the light at a small point on a paper, could burn a hole in it.
Dad probably did it just to fulfill my wish in the safest possible way.
He is a genius I tell you.
But little did he know my ambitions didn’t stop at burning holes in papers. Yes, you got it right, I set out to burn the entire world to ashes with my newly found weapon of mass-destruction, my tool of sorcery, my Magnifying Glass.
I literally kept a magnifying glass in pocket while going to school, intending to scare off anyone if I were to get into any fight. (Un)fortunately never could put it to that use. But that was a sense of unlimited power, the power of fire, the entire power of the sun in my pocket. Now before holding the world at ransom with the fear of being burnt to ashes, I had to verify if I could execute my plan as intended.
My laboratory used to be the store-room in the house with a big window, which when opened, let a fair amount of sun in, letting me carry out my experiments unhindered. After paper the next material I put to test was plastic – the plastic bags, packs etc., often coming out in garbage. I was fascinated at how plastic packs didn’t directly burn but instead went all soft and then melted in to a soft gooey mess. But of course it took much longer to melt plastic with a magnifying glass and it meant long grueling hours holding the magnifying glass, almost paralyzing my good hand.
So next was devising a stand for my magnifying glass that could be used to hold it in position. I needed to be flexible enough to be moved as per the direction of the sun. I achieved it using a study lamp with a flexible neck that didn’t work and was thrown away in the store-room, using some duct tape to attach the magnifying glass to it. Now this was convenient, all I had to do was move the neck of the lamp as the direction of sun through the window changed.
I even burnt bits of hair and was fascinated at how they would shrink on being burnt. Even at that tender age I had a good understanding that the task at hand wasn’t easy, and I’d probably need a very big magnifying glass to burn things which were bigger or took longer to burn OR.. that’s when the brilliant idea struck me, a BIG fire.
Now I had seen the dried leaves and twigs from the plants burnt pretty easily when my dad did the cleaning up. That meant I could start a fire using the dried up stuff and use it to burn stuff that took longer, like plastic, or presumably even metal.
So finally my big day arrived. I had volunteered the previous day to clean up all the dried leaves, to the astonishment of my proud parents. I had it all ready – the dried leaves & twigs, all the plastic I could gather, and lots of old newspapers, all filled into an old plastic tub available in the same store-room.
I added a layer of dried leaves at the top and the bottom as they would be the one to start the fire. And then all I had to do was place my magnifying glass stand into position, right in the path of sun coming in through the window.
Happy with the set-up I saw the results within a few minutes with smoke rising. A little blowing into the smoke and in another few minutes I could see little flames leaping up from the pile. It was time to put everything I had ever wished to test in to that tub one by one to see how it burnt. Then it struck me that I had never tested how rubber burnt.
I remembered having rubber pipes used to water the plants and I ran to fetch it. I guess it must have taken me much longer to locate my new material to be tested and in the meanwhile my mom, who was in the kitchen, had smelt something burning.
She traced it and went close to the store-room just to see the curtains on the store room window engulfed in huge flames of leaping fire. I was performing my experiment close to the window I told you.
She ran screaming.
Luckily dad was at home and so was my uncle. Everyone ran rushing in with buckets of water. I remember someone snatching away the pipe I was getting back with and pushing me out of the house.
We didn’t have a telephone at home in those days or someone would have called up the fire department as well. It wasn’t long when most the room was on fire.
By the time the fire was in control, most of the things in the store-room had already burnt or charred. But the situation was under control at last.
After all of it was over, I was brave enough to step-up and admit that it was an experiment gone wrong. Not to mention I was reprimanded well and all sorts of combustible items, match-boxes, and magnifying glasses, or any sort of lenses were kept well out of my reach for the next several years to come.
Foolishbut it did give my parents an idea as to what I might end up doing when I growup (and I actually am doing it) 😀
I think I was 11when my dad bought me a new bicycle. Summer had just begun and I was runningout of things to do – never really enjoyed video games and it was too hotoutside to ride my bicycle.
One such hotweekend and my parents went out for lunch (I dont remember what the eventwas), I was back home with my friends. One of them said that he had a set ofspanners in his house. I was excited to hear that as I wanted to raise theheight of the seat on my bicycle. I went to his place after everyone went backhome for lunch and borrowed the spanners promising him that I would return themin the evening.
Backhome, it took me 10 minutes to raise the seat height (I had seen my neighbor doit) and went to watch a game of cricket on the television. However, somethingwas not right. It was like, I have the key to a room which is full of excitingstuff and I am not using it!!
I went back tomy bicycle and so began what would be my first experience with a machine. Iused all the spanners and disassembled my bicycle completely – the tires,handle, chain, wheels, … everything. Took me about 30 to 45 minutes. I washedevery part of my bicycle and was happy to see it shining in the scorching sun.:)
Once it wasdone, I thought about assembling everything again – little did I know thatassembling a bicycle is a thousand times difficult than disassembling. I was onit for around 2 hours and managed just a few things. Frustrated, angry/sad,smeared in oil with dirty clothes, I had just given up!
Myparents came back home until then and even today, they say to me –
“Youwere crying with a fear that your bicycle could never be repaired again”.
My mom spenthalf an hour consoling me whereas dad had to assemble the bicycle again to stopme from crying. Once he was done, I was so happy to have my bicycle back.
15 years downthe line, working as a mechanical engineer on complex automatic transmissionsystems, my first experience with a machine does sound horrifying but stillreminds me to understand how a mechanism works before experimenting with it.
A good lessonlearnt during childhood always stays until the end of your life 🙂
I lied to the police that someone attempted to rape me.
I was a 7-year-old kid with a vivid imagination. My parents were just divorced and there were stories of a man in a car luring kids at my school with candy. I lived with my mom only about 500 meters away from school.
One day when walking home alone from school, I stopped at the beginning of the road looking in the distance. I imagined that at the end of the road there was a man shouting at me, offering me candy, and upon my refusal of the offer, he starting running towards me.
Keep in mind that this is all happening in my mind.
I run down a grassy path towards my home with the imaginary man closely behind, who for some odd reason can’t catch up with me. Yeah, a grown man can’t catch up with a 7-year-old kid.
Igot home, slammed the door behind me, and frantically locked it. I immediatelycalled my mom, who’s at work, and I told her that a man was chasing me in anattempt to rape me.
She got home,and together we went to the police station. I sat on my mothers lap while I tellthe police what happened, that a man was going to rape me. There was one policeofficer interviewing me, while another was drawing a sketch of the perpetrator.
As theworld-class child actor I am, I recounted the traumatic experience to the policeofficers, and I described the monster that was chasing me.
The policeofficer then showed me the sketch, “Is this what the man looked like?”
It looked eerilysimilar to my dad, except that the perpetrator is bald. I nodded.
Tocalm me down, the police officers showed me around the police station. I got tosee the inside of the prison cells, and I got to sat in a police car and turnon the sirens. I’m having a blast!
For about two weeks, the police patrols the school were looking for the perpetrator.Unfortunately, they can’t seem to find this guy. Weird, huh?
My schoolorganizes special classes across all grades to have open discussions aboutcriminality, rape, and other sensitive topics. Each class was introduced withmentions about my horrific experience.
Inever told anyone that it was a blatant lie, until about two to three years later. Atschool, we had a police officer come in to talk about their job and whatnot,and there was a Q&A at the end. I asked the police officer if its bad tolie to the police, and if its a punishable offense. The police officer told me that indeed it’s bad to lie to the police and it can be punished.
That night I’mridden with guilt of my big lie, so I woke up my mom and told her I havesomething to confess. I told her everything. Her immediate reaction was tolaugh. She was just laughing. She hugged me, and told me that it’s okay, that ithappened a long time ago so it’s nothing to worry about anymore, and that weshould just forget it all.
To this day,only a handful of people in my family know that I lied. People still think Iwas attempted raped. Well… now Quora knows the truth.