When I was 10, my family took an epic road trip. We drove from Cleveland, Ohio, to Dallas, Texas. My parent drove through a flood outside of Memphis, Tennessee with an alternating set of kids in the backseat which included my cousins and their own biological kids and possibly a Greyhound we rescued from a race track. I'm saying it's a possibility. I think the whole trip was a cruel experiment to see how many times you can listen to Billy Joel's Greatest Hits vols. I and II in the back of a minivan over the course of 22 hours. My parents are no longer married. Neither is Billy Joel. I don't think there is a correlation. Or is there?
Before we left for that trip, I cased my bedroom for places where my name and my face could be found. I flipped over all of my school certificates. I shoved all of my pictures into a drawer. Anything that had my name on it, I buried. I was trying to find traces of my identity that a burglar would be interested in stealing. I seriously was paranoid for weeks that someone was going to break into our house and be interested enough in my rising sixth grader life to warrant stealing it. Oooh, look at this interesting specimen of Catholic schoolgirl handwriting! And lo! What truths and wonders can be ascertained from her brace face with forest green gumbands around her brackets?
Still. It was 1990. How was I already freaked out about identity theft? Was that even a thing, pre-internets?
These days, I'm lucky if I remember to lock the door if I am leaving the house. For an hour, a day, a week. Bonus if I remember to unplug appliances.
So what about you? Any strange childhood phobias or abiding concerns, precocious or otherwise?