You were there for your whole childhood and you remember almost none of it. The first three or four years are gone for nearly everyone, and the rest survives as a handful of scenes, some of which may be borrowed from photographs.

The people who do remember are your parents. They hold the only record of the day you were born, the first word, the illness you do not recall, the year they were worried about you and never said so. Most of it has never been written down, because nobody thought to ask.

These forty questions to ask your parents about your childhood are about you, seen from their side. They work just as well as questions to ask your mom about yourself, or your dad, or whoever raised you.

Why this is an easy conversation to start

Most family history questions ask a parent to talk about themselves, which many people find awkward. These are different. You are asking them to talk about you, and almost every parent is glad to. It is a good first conversation if you plan to go further later, into the questions about their own life.

Two things help:

Ask both parents separately if you can. They will remember different things, and sometimes the same thing differently. Both versions are worth keeping.

Bring photographs. A baby photo is the fastest way in. Ask where it was taken, who was holding the camera, and what happened just after.

Questions to ask your parents about your childhood, starting before you were born

How did you find out you were expecting me?
What did you feel, honestly, in that first week?
Who did you tell first?
What names did you consider, and why did you choose mine?
What was going on in your life at the time: work, money, where you lived?
What were you most worried about?

The day I was born

Where were you when it started?
How long did it take, and what do you remember of it?
Who was there, and who arrived later?
What did I look like? What was the first thing you noticed?
What was the first night like?
Who came to visit, and what did they say?

If you were adopted, fostered or joined the family some other way, the same questions adapt easily: how did you first hear about me, what was the day I arrived like, what did you notice first.

The first years

What was I like as a baby: easy, difficult, loud, watchful?
What was my first word, and who heard it?
When did I first walk, and where?
What did I refuse to eat?
What toy or blanket could I not be without?
What was bedtime like?
Was I ever seriously ill, or in hospital?
What did I do that made you laugh?

Write down the exact words of each answer. “You would only eat things that were orange” is better than “I was a fussy eater,” and it is the first detail that memory smooths away.

What I was like

What three words would you have used to describe me at five?
What was I afraid of?
Who were my first friends?
What did I want to be when I grew up, and did it change often?
What did teachers say about me at parents’ evening?
What did I do that worried you?
What did I do that surprised you?
Is there something I did as a child that you still tell people about?

What you were dealing with

This section is the one most people never think to ask, and it often changes how you see the whole of your early life.

What was the hardest year for you while I was small?
Was money tight at any point, and did I notice?
What were you worried about that you kept from me?
Was there a decision you made for my sake that I do not know about?
Who helped you, and did you ever thank them?
Is there something you wish you had done differently?

Ask number 34 gently, and accept whatever answer comes. It is not a request for an apology. It is a question about what they have thought about since.

The things only you remember

Where did we live, and what was my room like?
What did a normal Saturday look like for us?
What was our best holiday, and what went wrong on it?
Which family stories about me get told most, and are they true?
Is there a photograph you love of me, and what was happening just outside the frame?
What do you remember about me that you think I have forgotten?

Follow-ups that turn an answer into a story

The first answer to any of these is usually short. The follow-up is where the detail comes from:

“What happened next?” The most useful question in any family conversation.
“Who else was there?” Brings in grandparents, neighbours and friends you have never heard of.
“How did you feel about that at the time?” Different from how they feel about it now, and both are worth having.
“Do you remember where you were standing?” Pulls a general memory down into one specific scene.

When the stories do not match

Ask two people about the same afternoon and you will get two afternoons. One parent remembers the hospital, the other remembers the car park. One says you were a placid baby, the other says you screamed for a year. This is normal, and it is not a problem to solve.

Keep both versions. Write them down side by side with who said what. The disagreement is often more revealing than either account, because it shows what each of them was paying attention to at the time.

Do not referee. If you correct one parent with the other’s version, the conversation turns into a debate and the detail stops coming. Ask “and what do you remember about it?” instead.

Widen the circle. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, older cousins and family friends often hold pieces your parents never saw: the visit to the hospital, what your mother said on the phone that week, what you were like at their house. If a parent is no longer around to ask, these are the people who can fill in some of what they would have told you. Many of the same questions work, lightly reworded, and the questions to ask your grandparents go further into their side of the family.

Some gaps will stay gaps. That is fine. A few true details, clearly labelled with who remembered them, are worth more than a complete story stitched together from guesses.

Keeping what they tell you

Record it if they are comfortable. A phone on the table is enough, as long as it is set up properly for a family interview. Then write up the best answers soon afterwards, in their words, with the date and who said it.

Some people use these answers as the first chapter of something larger. If you have ever thought about writing your own story, your parents’ memories of your early years are the part you cannot supply yourself, and they make a natural opening. The guide to writing your own life story picks up from there.

If you have children of your own, the same questions are worth answering about them, now, while the details are fresh in your own memory. One day they will want to ask.

Choose the question you are most curious about, ask it next time you speak, and write the answer down that evening.