Das erste Jahr Babybuddha jetzt auf:
I ask you where our baby is, you ask me where our baby is. We both think: he’s with you, our baby must be with you, didn’t we both (you, I) just hear him squealing in another room? A few minutes pass, then we realize: our baby got away. There follows a long moment of horror (which is actually very short). The sense of paralysis that befalls us forces us to hear a horrible thumping (a thumping that knows no inside or outside; when we lose this difference, our horror is always particularly great). Our baby got away! We leap to our feet. The first thing we see are two light strips slowly moving in the darkness of the stairwell. His waterproof pants, we think at the same time (you or I dropped them off in front of the door to our apartment after coming home from the playground in the afternoon). Then our baby emerges from the blackness, we turn on the light (to be on the safe side, it seems to us), yes, it is our baby, having a try at the suspender of his waterproof pants. We see him and think (again at the same time): so he’s able to open the door to the apartment! Later we laugh at this incident (concealing from each other the fact that we knew from the beginning everything would ultimately come down to this, and precisely this: our baby’s disappearance).