If I could actually remember what I did that year, I would write a heart-warming, poignant, laugh-out-loud funny memoir about a five-year-old's search for identity and purpose in the 'burbs. My grand and life-transforming exploits would inspire you to make change in your own life. I'd write about my existential crises, and the myriad interesting characters I encountered, and about backpacking across Europe... wait I don't think it was possible that I backpacked across Europe... about backpacking across the backyard! Oh, the adventures I had! The realisations about the absolute truths of life and love and death and religion! The discovery of self outside the limits of the System! The freedom! Like Eat Pray Love only forty years younger!
And then I went to primary school.
Unfortunately I have a terrible memory and I am left to assume that 1999 was probably the greatest year of my young life. But maybe I just stayed at home and read The Very Hungry Caterpillar over and over again. Probably. (Really quite similar to my life now.)
(I could always ask my family, but you know me. I'd rather wonder and invent a splendid fiction.)