One tale featured a two-year-old Art somehow scaling more than halfway up the length of a curtain. Another detailed Art’s brief phase of barging into the bathroom when either one of his parents were using the toilet, and he would point and laugh-shout, “Pew!” while doing a special bathroom dance. Art wished he could remember those stories from the point of view of toddler-Art, but he only remembered what his parents had told him. When his parents died, would those foundational stories of who Art once was die, too?
