I just joined the forum as something I was reading online triggered the memory of my son when he was small.
My son Benjamin was alittle bit of a late talker, not really getting past one word answers until just after 2. When he was about 2 1/2, and taking well, he started talking about "when he was big".
We were in our room (recently divorced, we lived with my parents for a while) and were getting ready to go run errands. Suddenly he just says, "Mommy, did you know I built this house?" I chuckled and said, how could you build a while house? You're just a little boy." He said impatiently, "Not now, Mommy. I built it when I was big." I knew a teeny bit about past lives of children, I think from an old episode of Unsolved Mysteries, and it scared me. I just said, "Actually Benjamin, your Papa built this house about 5 years before you were born." That's when he sighed as though he was losing all patience and started describing in detail.
He said he didn't build this house now, but the house that was there before. Only it looked different, it was made all out of logs, and sat further back toward the rock cliff. Then went on to tell exactly how he built the fireplace and where the chimney was. Several times, we would be in the yard and he would show us where the chimney used to be. And many times, he would ask my dad to take him down to the well and he needed his silver cup for a drink.
After the first time he said anything to me, I told my mom about it. She said that he had been telling them the same sort of things and he'd downright argue with my dad that he did build the house "not you, Papa". We asked him several questions about building the house and so on, and he'd answer questions about cutting wood and fitting it together. He was especially detailed about building the chimney. My parents' house sits back from the main road about a mile, and besides a one lane driveway, is surrounded by woods and trees. At only 2.5 and never having gone in the woods, he knew where there used to be a well, and where all of the streams are as you walk down the hills from the clearing where my dad put the house and paths that lead through the woods to come out the in the hollow on the other side. We asked him what his name was when he was big, and he would shrug and say, "Benjamin." After a while, a few months, he stopped taking about it so much and would become agitated when we asked.
Here's the thing. There did used to be an old log cabin there many years ago. When my dad was a young boy, he and his brothers and cousins would from one hollow, through the woods where the cabin sat, to the other where his uncle lived. Then, they called it the "Hicks' Place" because that was who lived there.
In about 1998 or 1999 my dad bought about 10 acres where the cabin had sat and in 2000 built the house that he still lives in now. He had to clear a lot of the land as it had grown up, and dig out some of the foundation that was still in the ground where the cabin was. And of course, stones from the chimney. When my dad was young, he and his brothers and cousins would play in the weedy spot where the remaining foundation was and he said he had always wanted to live on the place. Upon doing some family research, I found someone who had a picture of the cabin that was there and that my dad's great- great- great-grandfather's name was Benjamin.
Anyway... that's my story.
My son Benjamin was alittle bit of a late talker, not really getting past one word answers until just after 2. When he was about 2 1/2, and taking well, he started talking about "when he was big".
We were in our room (recently divorced, we lived with my parents for a while) and were getting ready to go run errands. Suddenly he just says, "Mommy, did you know I built this house?" I chuckled and said, how could you build a while house? You're just a little boy." He said impatiently, "Not now, Mommy. I built it when I was big." I knew a teeny bit about past lives of children, I think from an old episode of Unsolved Mysteries, and it scared me. I just said, "Actually Benjamin, your Papa built this house about 5 years before you were born." That's when he sighed as though he was losing all patience and started describing in detail.
He said he didn't build this house now, but the house that was there before. Only it looked different, it was made all out of logs, and sat further back toward the rock cliff. Then went on to tell exactly how he built the fireplace and where the chimney was. Several times, we would be in the yard and he would show us where the chimney used to be. And many times, he would ask my dad to take him down to the well and he needed his silver cup for a drink.
After the first time he said anything to me, I told my mom about it. She said that he had been telling them the same sort of things and he'd downright argue with my dad that he did build the house "not you, Papa". We asked him several questions about building the house and so on, and he'd answer questions about cutting wood and fitting it together. He was especially detailed about building the chimney. My parents' house sits back from the main road about a mile, and besides a one lane driveway, is surrounded by woods and trees. At only 2.5 and never having gone in the woods, he knew where there used to be a well, and where all of the streams are as you walk down the hills from the clearing where my dad put the house and paths that lead through the woods to come out the in the hollow on the other side. We asked him what his name was when he was big, and he would shrug and say, "Benjamin." After a while, a few months, he stopped taking about it so much and would become agitated when we asked.
Here's the thing. There did used to be an old log cabin there many years ago. When my dad was a young boy, he and his brothers and cousins would from one hollow, through the woods where the cabin sat, to the other where his uncle lived. Then, they called it the "Hicks' Place" because that was who lived there.
In about 1998 or 1999 my dad bought about 10 acres where the cabin had sat and in 2000 built the house that he still lives in now. He had to clear a lot of the land as it had grown up, and dig out some of the foundation that was still in the ground where the cabin was. And of course, stones from the chimney. When my dad was young, he and his brothers and cousins would play in the weedy spot where the remaining foundation was and he said he had always wanted to live on the place. Upon doing some family research, I found someone who had a picture of the cabin that was there and that my dad's great- great- great-grandfather's name was Benjamin.
Anyway... that's my story.
