Benjamin is somewhat consumed by time, measuring time, comparing time periods, assessing amounts of time. Many of his questions begin with, "How many minutes..." or "When I was a baby..." The only time he does not refer to time is when traveling by car. Then, he asks, every trip, without fail, "How many roads until we get there?" I don't know why he does that. It's another weird thing about him.
At the supper table, Benjamin asked me, "Mom, how long did I live in our Rockford house before we moved out and had to move into Grandma and Grandpa's basement because Daddy didn't have this house finished yet?" (Think he's heard the story a few times?) Before I could begin to answer-- two weeks, that's the answer-- Elisabeth butted in:
"Mommy can't answer that, Ben. She can't tell you because she wasn't there when you were born. You weren't born to her because you are adopted. You really are. Mom had to adopt you because she is an alien and she couldn't have babies. You were born to another mother and then Mommy adopted you. Mommy is an alien. It won't do any good to ask Mommy if that's the truth because she had to sign all kinds of papers when she adopted you. She can't tell you the truth. She'll lie and say that you were born to her and you are her real son. But that's a lie."
When Libby finished, I just looked at Ben and smiled, and he smiled back. Much as I want to paste my children sometimes, I love that they all have such colorful imaginations... and I love that they get each other.