I told my younger brother he didn't like chocolate.
My father gave us a chocolate bar to share. When he went out of the room, my Dbro asked 'should we share the chocolate?' He was 4. I was 6.
'Well, you could have some chocolate, but last time you did that, you sicked all over the sofa! And me! And you couldn't wear your pyjamas so you had to wear a t-shirt and pants all night. So...'
And then DBro told me that that definitely didn't happen.
I told him it did. I even fetched his pyjamas and showed a stain which proved he had vomited after eating chocolate. I can't remember exactly, but I don't think there was a stain, I convinced him there was though.
And then, finally, I finished with 'and after, you said it tasted ugh. Are you stupid? Why can't you remember?'
So I played mental torture with my brother and won all the chocolate.
Where I lived (a Nordic country) there were killer whales. A little boy, about 11, was killed by one, when I was 4 and a half. It evidently stuck with me, because when I was 7, I forgot the time completely, and played for hours on the beach. I usually did that, but that day I had a doctor appointment, so had been told to only spend a few minutes there. When I came home, at about 7:30, my mother was furious, she smacked me hard and yelled a lot, and kept on smacking me. So I told her that I'd been fighting off a killer whale to save my friend, and it was horrible to smack me for saving someone's life. She didn't believe me 