Lately I’ve been going through some old journals/sketchbooks.
In 1994 we were staying at a hotel in Indiana when I overheard the following while swimming at the pool:
Boy: What’s your address?
Christer (my son, 7 years old): 820.
Boy: Mine is 15.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Christer: “Which floor do you live on?”
“I live on the 5th floor.”
Boy: “Which window?”
“I think it’s on the other side. I think it’s about that one.”
“I live on the 2nd floor under the door.”
(P.S. That’s me in 2nd grade in 1970!)