When I was around six years old Sheila came marching up to me and demanded: –
“Do you know what Dad’s name is?”
Well, of course I did! I was the older brother.
“No man, his real name!”
What did she mean? Oh, of course – I’d heard Mom call him that lots of times.
“No. It’s PIETER GERHARDUS!!”
What rubbish! I’d never heard such foul language! And this from my MUCH younger sister! She was a whole year younger’n me. Which was like: All of living memory!
Amazingly, investigation and enquiry proved her right!
(this snippet had an interesting sort-of replay years later)