As a little kid, I was precociously knowledgeable about some aspects of life; and unusually naive, even for the age concerned, about others -- the latter tending to be, the more practical and everyday kind of matters.
Have been, almost from infancy, obsessively keen on geography and political-type-maps stuff. On first hearing the carol "we three kings of Orient are"; I wondered where on the globe might be, the land-mass occupied by the regions of Oari, and Tah -- it must obviously be quite big, if it could accommodate at least three separate kingdoms.
In my early childhood, we lived for some years in makeshift accommodation on a farm. Our landlords were the "old farmer", Mr. P., and his son the "young farmer". This was in the early 1950s: Mr. P. was a sweet fellow, then in his sixties. My father said one day, that "Mr.P. was a soldier in the Fourteen -- Eighteen War". This was, I think, the first mention that I'd ever heard, of World War 1. The correct significance sailed right by me: I remember thinking, "I know Mr. P. is quite old -- but surely he can't be some five-and-a-half centuries old." (I didn't have the nous, to ask Dad straight away about this mystery -- just puzzled over it in solitary fashion, for quite some while.)