I didn't tell my kids about my childhood until they asked specific questions. Fortunately they asked mostly general questions for quite a long time and young kids are self-focused enough that they didn't really think about my younger self.
My daughter started asking me questions around 5th grade and since I don't want to lie to them I answered them honestly with as little detail as possible.
You see, I try my best to be kind. I see the world as good and do my best to do good in the world. I don't have friends that are mean or cruel and since I'm an introvert I've done a pretty good job of isolating myself and by extension, my kids from the horrors of the world.
The fact that my childhood and young adulthood were full of horrible, awful, terrible things just doesn't seem likely. Hahahaha I say. So they asked questions and I answered and they soon learned to stop asking questions and assume that my childhood was horrible and they'd rather just focus on the now.
While I think that's a generally good plan, I do have stories I'd like to tell, stuff I'd like to share with them and whoever else might be interested.
Some of the stories will be good, I expect that lots of them will be cringe worthy, but at least they will be able to get a sense of me when they get older and I hope to be able to write with more humor than I might tell the story to them.
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