First memory

I heard once that every time you think of a memory, you forget part of it. One solution to this problem would be to never remember memories again, leaving them, theoretically, intact. But that seems kind of pointless, so I guess I'll have to resort to the other (more difficult) solution which is writing stuff down.
My first memory is jumping around on this couch that we had. What a couch! It was hideous, brown and orange and yellow striped, but it was great because you could take the cushions off and jump on the springs underneath, and if you got bored of that, you could make a fort with the cushions.
Anyway, in this particular memory, my mom was ironing, and I was jumping. I also happened to be hunting those pesky wolves that hid behind doors. Thank goodness I was around to save innocent ironers from them.