There was a time that I found a tampon applicator in my mum's bathroom trash can and took it out to to my friends to play with. I think I was 4 or 5 and just thought it was cool. Like playing with used toilet or paper towel rolls. I had no idea why my mom was so horrified.
My mum and I were at Myer to buy her some clothes when I was around 5. Myer had fitting rooms in a row against the back wall. No separate area for them back in the 60's. So she goes in to try on a dress and I, being so young, have to go in too. Bored, I'm hanging like a monkey from the eye-level purse hook on the back of the door. Mom's standing there in her bra and panties when, all of a sudden, crash. The entire door comes off it's hinges and slams to the floor from my weight. Salesgirls were running over to see what happened, I was bawling with a bloody head, and mom was just standing there, arse in the breeze, while everyone in the store got a good look.
At around 5 (I think), I was on the train with my mum and behind us a particularly large lady with a very broad nose and significant hormonal hair sat down. My eyes grew wide and I stated (pretty darn loudly too), "Look, mum! A gorilla!" I was treated to a number of belts across the backside for that!
When I was around 6 or 7 we were at the shops and my mum told me that if I was good she would buy me a coke from one of the vending machines. Naturally the promise of sugary drink did indeed keep me quiet and good throughout the whole shopping episode. We got to the coke machine and stood in line. When it was our turn, I got to put in the money and hit the button. Out popped the coke, and in front of a bunch of other shoppers I asked whether the coke can had come out of the coke machines vagina.
At around 12, I decided that the fart was one of the most excruciatingly funny things a kid could do. At that point in time, everything in my humor inventory revolved around gas. So for about six months, whenever my parents and I were shopping and at the register, I would pop one out. Not just a silent but deadly or a little squeaker, no this was terror of the plague arse. It was loud, it was noxious, and I'm sure I killed all of the bugs and small life in the area. After launching the bomb, I would evacuate the area as soon as possible. This would leave my parents standing in front of a cashier who thought they had blatantly busted arse.
OK, this one was intentional.
When I was around the 14 year old mark, my dad accidentally hit me in the face with the car door (well, at least he tells me it was accidental). So anyways, it swelled up and looked for all the world, like a black eye. A few days later when we doing some shopping at the hardware store, the female clerk asked me what had happened so I responded "My Dad hit me" to which she called him a child abusing bastard.