George

B likes order in his world. He likes to know what to expect. When he asks a question, he likes short, prompt answers. Sometimes he tricks me by asking a question that requires a specific answer. Usually, an answer that only B holds. For instance, the other day he said, "Mama, what did you go in?" I tried to answer. Honestly, I gave it my best shot.
"A car?"
"NO!"
"A boat?"
"No...what did you GO in? (He must have thought I didn't hear him correctly. Why would I give such frickin' stupid answers otherwise?)
"Um, sometimes I go in to school."
"No, WHAT did you go in?"
"I really don't know the answer, B."
Seriously crying now, (real tears), "An Ambulance! You goed in an ambulance!"
"Oh. Yup, FIFTEEN YEARS ago, I went in an ambulance, when I had a seizure."

(S adds her two-cents here: "And I went in an ambulance because I wasn't breathing." Well, kind of S, except for you forgot a few KEY WORDS: You weren't breathing AS EASILY AS USUAL. You were breathing SOME.)

One question often asked in the car is, "Mama, who is in that yellow (or blue or red or brown) car?"
I never know, but if I admit that, tears follow, along with more questions, "No, WHO is in that car? WHO? Who is in the YELLOW CAR? Who, mama? What is his name?" It is sometimes (often) easier to just say, "George is in that car, B. Wave 'hi' to George!"
Last Thursday, our good friend, Diana, had her parents staying with her.
Her dad's name is George.
B, introducing himself (ok, his introductions are more of a question...again), said, "What is YOUR name?"
"My name is George", replied George.
And OH! the light went on in B's eyes, as he could finally put a face to the millions of George's that ride by every day in different cars and in different parts of the city. Oh, the joy. Oh, the clarity in B's now peaceful life.

(And the lies I will have to admit to later, maybe in his teen years....maybe along with Santa and the Easter Bunny.)