When I was a really little kid, I thought that the inside of your body was just a bunch of tiny human skeletons floating around in blood.
Like CyborgUprising, I thought that buffalo wings were actual buffalo wings. But buffalos couldn't fly, could they?
I thought that if there was nothing--no universe, no earth, no life--then there would be a gray flower swaying in the wind on a gray field with a gray sky; all different shades of gray. I knew there really wasn't supposed to be ANYTHING, let alone a flower, but I just couldn't picture it otherwise. I thought about the nothingness a lot, normally in moments of semi-inactivity (I remember one instance where I was getting in the car from the grocery store parking lot), and it scared me.
A year or two later, I thought that if you used the computer more than once a day your brain would turn to jello, because my kindergarten teacher said so.
I also thought because my kindergarten teacher--probably one of the best teachers I've ever had--told me that a crush meant someone liked you (as those were her exact words); but in the sense that they just wanted to be friends with you, or thought you were a cool person, not that they actually LIKED you.
I was a pretty strange little kid.