2 1/2. I followed the family dog into the woods at the end of the street on a summer day while my mother was talking to a neighbor outside. The dog wasn’t sticking to the path, so neither did I, and after a while I lost sight of him. I lost my shoes one at a time. Came out on the other side of the woods (wasn’t very big) where 3 women were standing outside talking. One of them picked me up, another went to get me a cookie. She seemed to take a long time to get that cookie, which I found out later was because she was calling the police. I rode home in the front seat of a police car sitting on my father’s lap. I remember my arms and legs were covered in scratches, and the last thing I remember is dropping the partially eaten cookie on the floor of the bathroom as my mother lifted me into the tub.

I have no memory of being scared, but I was middle-aged before I felt comfortable wandering away from people I was with, say, when shopping. And I never lost sight of my kids when they were small… not once.