My kids had two imaginary friends. They called them their old ladies. That may not seem creepy, but BOTH my kids saw them and played with them. One day, I asked who the old ladies were, bc they had been playing with them. They told me, “The old ladies are dead.”
I had just bought my kid a white stuffed bunny. His response “when I was your dad I got you one just like this, then you didn’t see me anymore.” He’s named after my dad, who I didn’t see for 12 years after he gave me the bunny (we talked when I was 14, he died the next year).
When my twins were born one of them took longer to talk. When she did start it was in fluent Spanish. Which we don’t speak at home. Nor does anyone who had come into contact with her at that time.
“You died in the war with Star-Spangled Banner, Daddy. The men in red killed you. But then you came back.”
He’s four. FOUR. And apparently my husband was killed by the British in the War of 1812 awheelerauthor
6-yr-old: I’m going to destroy the Earth.
Me: Wait, what’s going to happen to me?
6-yr-old: You’ll burn with the world.
6-yr-old: And then I’ll move on to other planets.
Woke up in the dead of night, in total darkness. Thought someone had called for me, but all was quiet. Didn’t notice that my 3 yr old had crept in and was standing directly beside my bed until he whispered into my ear “I used to have a train-set when I was a grandpa.
I noticed my son carefully examining his food. He looked at it carefully, sniffed it, and tasted a tiny bit. I asked if something was wrong. His response: “what if it’s poison”. He was 3. He did that ritual at every meal for years.
me, my mom and my niece were out shopping and my mom picked out a dress and my niece said “that would look nice if you wore it to a funeral.” On our way home from the store my mom got a phone call that her cousin passed away and she wore that exact dress to the funeral.
I work with fourth graders. Had one boy, chipping the yellow paint off a pencil, look me dead in the eye and say, “I’m scraping this pencil like I want to scrape my teacher’s skin.”
My son, at five years old:
“Daddy, I’m gonna eat you up.”
“Yeah, I’m gonna cut you into little pieces.”
Once when my daughter was 4, she waiting for me at the end of the hallway. When I reached her, I said, “come on, kiddo. Let’s go.” And she said, “mom. I’m not waiting for you. I’m waiting for them.” Then pointed at the empty hallway and smiled.