My dad tells the story fabulously.
I was three, maybe four -- possibly even two. Wearing something super-cute-and-girlie, no doubt. On vacation with my parents deep in the Swedish heartland. Somehow, somewhere we entered a building. A theater? A museum? Or maybe it was less grandiose, just a room with an elevated part in the back.
They lost me.
Momentary panic. Frantic searching. Calling. Scrambling.
"Here I am!" I practically beamed, appearing -- of course -- in the middle of the stage.
Funny how circular that really is. Three decades later and I still crave the limelight. And yes -- definitely still plan on donning something insanely adorable.
When your day entails gulping wine and devouring fine foods, it's best to look the fancy part.
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