A small thing that is a bad memory for one person is a good memory for another.
In my case, your mention of those canned goods from Chef Boyardee bring back fond memories. My parents used to leave me alone in the apartment even as young as six or seven because they trusted me to be a good boy. My mom even taught me how to cook for myself -- how to operate the stove, the can opener, toaster, etc. Well, whenever I was left alone and had to fend for myself, I just opened a can of beefaroni (and they also had the circular ones, forgot what they were called), poured the contents into a sauce pan, toasted a couple slices of bread, and voila! A full meal!