One of my first memories are of mischief.
I was about two or three years old and in kindergarten. All the children was outside playing. I looked around me and made sure that nobody saw me. Then I opened the gate and ran out. Nobody saw me leave, and I ran down the path to the building where my mother and father worked. I didn’t want anybody to catch me – I was on a field trip.
I didn’t even make it up to the workdesk, but somehow I told the receptionist that I wanted to talk to my dad.
“What is the name of your dad?”, the receptionist asked.
I didn’t understand the question, so I just repeated “Dad”.
I don’t know how they found out who he was, but he came for me. I must have been very lucky because the company had thousands of employees.
I spent the day with both my parents. They worked in the same company.
Many years later I was told that they hadn’t thought of notifying the kindergarten about my (dis)appearance.
