After reading the OP and other replies, I feel embarrassed to say my childhood was great.
As forces kids (sons of a pilot), myself and my 2 brothers moved homes and often countries every few years, so we learned to mix well and adapt.
Air bases and the hinterlands that surround them are a wonderland for active kids - burnt out aircraft to play on, woods full of adventures - during the school holidays we'd go out at dawn and return battered and bruised from our adventures just before nightfall.
I'm amazed all three of us lived to be old .... falling out of trees, off makeshift rafts, blowing stuff up with home made explosives, riding knackered Honda 70 field bikes then later, leaky old twin cylinder road bikes.
Dad was away often (Cold War fighter pilot, then later V-bombers) and our Mother ruled with fear and the odd back hand slap when we didn't run fast enough, but we were always well fed, well dressed and cared for .... tough love.
It was a blast, and set me up for my later travels that brought me to Thailand via India.