I would guess that the first time I read any real philosophy was when I was about ten years old. Sitting and reading aloud on the living room couch with my father, I took the part of Hylas in Berkeley's Three Dialogues. It is a happy memory for me, despite the fact that I turned out, as those familiar with that dialogue will know, not to have very many lines, and always to be wrong. I also have a very distinct visual memory, from roughly the same period, of the moment my father presented the open question argument to me. He didn't explain the problems with the argument, and if he had, I doubt I would have understood what he was saying. I was just sophisticated enough that the argument seemed to me to show exactly what Moore thought it showed. I didn't like having to believe in non-natural properties. I didn't even have any clear idea what they were. But I had to do it. Twenty-seven years later, I think I might have gotten out of the problem.

Those two memories may be the oldest ones I have of doing any philosophy with my father, but they are by no means the only ones. Later memories are less distinct, probably because philosophical discussion became as common as eating dinner.