One thing that got told to me when I was younger was a story, very random one tho of me when I was a baby
My grandma took care of me for a while when I was a toddler. She was 50 at that time and took me to her mom's apartment (great grandma) that she was sharing with her boyfriend (since my great grandpa had passed away allready like 30 years before I was born, my great grandma had a new boyfriend, not married) and my grandma noticed I got sleepy as a baby so she asked if I could sleep in their bed. When I woke up I apparently saw a book on the other side of the bed and ripped it apart. My great grandma felt bad cause the book belongt to her boyfriend, but he just said "It's ok, babies don't know it better, don't feel bad for it, it's just a book"
The boyfriend of my great grandma aparently only saw me once (he was allready in his late 80s back than and passed away probably when I was 1 or 2 years old) and on that day he gifted me my 2nd ever plushi that I also had named after him, Ludwig
