What are the imaginative composition topics about childhood?

Everyone's childhood has many interesting things, and I am no exception. Come and see my interesting story!

In the third summer vacation, my mother asked me to cook alone at noon in order to exercise me. I thought to myself, this is just cooking. Who wouldn't? So I started to do it.

I usually like omelets, so I decided to cook this dish first. I shot first. Because I was afraid, I opened a small fire. I can't turn on the range hood. I can't help it This is the first time. This is inevitable. I learned to wear an apron with my mother, took an egg from the refrigerator and poured some oil into the pot. I just heard a bang. I nearly fainted with fear. I was afraid of being blown up, so I picked up the lid as a protective cover. Then I hold the lid in one hand and the egg in the other. I dropped the egg on the edge of the pot, and the shell cracked, but it also leaked a lot of egg liquid. I'll move the egg on it at once. The eggs were beaten successfully. Okay, it's time to copy. I picked up a spatula and began to copy. While frying, I hummed the adapted version of Mavis Fan's "Health Song": "Left three turns, right three turns, fried here, fried there, I like to eat omelets best ..." I watched it almost cooked, and then learned from the chefs and threw the eggs into the sky. Unexpectedly, the egg is in the middle of a garbage bag. I looked at the clock, ah! It's two o'clock. I'm really, what stunts have I played and I haven't eaten yet! Speaking of rice, haha, I had a brainwave: didn't mom leave some leftovers yesterday? Just use that. I took the lunch box out of the refrigerator and put it in front of the stove. I made a big fire and poured the rice in. Yes, I'm going to cook fried rice! I poured some oil and brought soy sauce. After about 3 or 4 minutes, the meal was hot and I began to pour soy sauce. Ok, fry! I cooked, took out a bowl, filled some rice, took a pair of chopsticks and sat on the chair. I said loudly, "Let's eat!" I ate a mouthful of rice and wanted to cry. I spit it out in one gulp: "Is this a human meal?" I looked at the bottle of soy sauce. Because I can't cook, half a bottle of soy sauce went down. Can it be salty? Alas, I can only blame myself for my poor cooking. I have no choice but to buy some bread to fill my stomach.

In the evening, my mother came back. As soon as I heard my "cooking storm", I began to laugh. I thought: If I had known this, I would have learned to cook from my mother last time. I can't help it, after all, it's the first time!

Everyone's childhood will make a lot of jokes, which is very interesting. I really want to return to that colorful childhood!