As a toddler in 1981 and 1982, I attended a day care with monkeys. Or, perhaps more precisely, I was part of a study in the form of a day care that involved monkeys. I was two, then three. I remember nothing.
I know about it because my dad liked to tease me about it. If I made a mess at dinner, came in with dirty knees and elbows, or was otherwise slobby, he’d say, "It was the monkeys." The idea that I had once played with primates — actually sometimes, I could swear he said "chimps" — became a part of my mental frame of reference, my picture of myself. This, even though as I said, I don’t remember them. I don’t even remember the other children in the program.
Monkey day care
