I'm reading Bill Bryson's "Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid", courtesy of the Dr. Research Lending Library, and in it he makes the point that as a kid he knew a lot more than he knows today. And he's not talking about 'child is father to the man' stuff neither; he means he knew his house and yard and neighborhood in intimate detail. Knew what the underside of his dining room table looked like, and the insides of all the closets, for example. And he's absolutely right. I knew every square inch of our back yard. Knew every item in my Dad's top dresser drawer and what it smelled like. Bryson says that it's because childhood doesn't go by fast at all, it goes by achingly slowly, and you have all the time in the world to examine and memorize every detail of your surroundings. It's adulthood that goes by in a flash.