President Trump slept, ate and bathed here, and I did, too — but I wouldn’t want to ever go back!

Donald Trump’s childhood home in Queens is now being rented on Airbnb for $725 a night. It’s not exactly Mar-a-Lago inside.

The five-bedroom Jamaica Estates home sits on an unassuming tree-lined block, between two other brick, Tudor-style homes. A stone path leads to the door, lined with black-eyed Susans and, not surprisingly, three American flags.

You walk through the front door and into a cramped vestibule — and the first thing you lay eyes on across the room is a life-size cardboard cut-out of the 45th president of the United States in a dusty side corner.

I almost jumped out of my skin.

The living room is at least sun-filled and features a sprawling wood-burning fireplace with an ornate gold gate.

The furniture is not original, but it includes “antiques” from the period when Trump lived there as a tyke between 1946 and 1950, according to the Realtor subletting the house through the home-sharing web service.

There also are three copies of Trump’s book “The Art of the Deal’’ in the living room — with another three scattered throughout the house.

On the walls are pictures of Trump. There is a black and white snapshot of a young Trump in the back of a taxicab speaking on a car phone, Trump on a street corner, Trump in what was probably his Manhattan office.

Above the fireplace is a large portrait of Trump on Jimmy Fallon’s “Tonight Show” looking at a framed photo of the house.

“I want to buy it! I want to buy it!” Trump said at the time.

Too late. A group of Chinese investors scooped it up for more than $2 million in March.

In the dining room, there are more pictures of Trump, and a framed invite to his inauguration.

But nearly as creepy as the cut-out of the president is the dingy American flag draped on the long wooden dining room table. It makes the eating spot look like a veteran’s coffin.

In the bedrooms, there are the usual supply of dressers. Most have little in them, although one holds an odd surprise.

“The most important thing in life is to love what you are doing, because that’s the only way you’ll ever be really good at it,” a typed white piece of paper with gold medieval font reads, with Trump’s name at the bottom. There are messages all over the house similar to this — but they’re all framed. Apparently this one didn’t make the cut.

Books line the walls throughout the house, with titles from “Twilight” to “Legally Wed: Same Sex Marriage and the Constitution.”

One of the bathrooms features a full-length mirror — disturbingly, right in front of the toilet.

The kitchen was so unimpressive, it’s not even worth mentioning, but it is apparently just like when Trump lived here.

The whole place smells like a church rectory, full of mothballs and lemon Pledge.

There are six boxes of Wheaties on the counter because, as the Airbnb host says, “[It’s] the breakfast of champions — what else would Donald eat for breakfast, right?” Actually, wrong. Trump doesn’t eat breakfast and if he did, he’d go for a bacon and eggs spread, not soggy cereal.

The hot water was off for my weekend because of repair work, so I was given a 50 percent discount. Still, that didn’t explain the rusty showerhead.

Morning couldn’t come soon enough.

The sign above the bed I slept in — inside the master bedroom — said, “In this bedroom, President Donald Trump was likely conceived by his parents, Fred and Mary Trump. The world has never been the same.”

I don’t think I will be, either.