From the Mixed-Up Files of one Windham Porter Holliman

as told by his other mommy:

I am putting Windham to bed tonight. The following conversation ensues. We have just returned from the playground playing with neighbor kids, trying to wear them out to go to bed without fuss. Harps is asleep. Windham, at 9, is still awake and thinking, a lot. While I rock him and he is drinking his milk, he begins:

W: Wanna make a fire.
M: Inside? We can’t make a fire inside.
W: Yeah, make a fire inside.
M: No fire inside.
W: Wanna make a fire outside, at that house.

I realize he’s remembering the time we stayed at Sharon and Greg Hill’s trailor, had a fire, and made smores, on Whidbey Island. This was MANY months ago, and NOT something we've reminisced about since, at all.

M: You wanna go back to Sharon and Greg’s house, where we had a fire and made smores.
W: Yeah. Wanna bring bags, not all the bags, one plastic bag. Not eat it.

In summary, over the next few minutes, I realize he’s trying to tell me we have to have that plastic bag from Sharon and Greg’s trailor that had the smore makings in it. He knows we don’t need lots of bags, just that one plastic bag with the food in it. To tease him, I don’t guess this just yet.

M: What’s in the plastic bag?
W: Food.
M: What kind of food is in it?
W: Yellow and pink food. (Then he sticks out his tongue and gives me a big happy goofy smile.)
M: You are trying to tell Mommy you want to go camping again and sleep in the tent and make a fire and eat outside.
W: Yeah and eat the food. What’s that food?
M: Marshmallows and graham crackers. They’re called smores. You cooked them with Mommy over the fire, then ate them.
W: Wanna eat ‘dem smores.
M: You like camping?
W: Yeah.
M: Will you wake up in the tent in the nighttime and be scared and scream and cry?

W: No.

More blathering…

W: I can’t step on the rocks?
M: No, you can step on rocks. What do you mean?
W: Fire rocks. I can’t step on fire rocks. (He’s remembering that mamas told him not to walk on the rocks around in or in the firepit.)
M: You can walk on rocks at the beach, or at the park, but not in the fire pit.
W: why?
M: because they’re too hot.
W: Why?
M: because they’ll burn you (anticipating another why) and THAT will HURT.

Moments of quiet thought, then he begins again.

W: I want a little yellow ladder.
M: Why?
W: Harper need a big ladder.
W: Why do you need ladders?

Then he just continued to tell me how he needed a ladder but wouldn’t explain why, then summarized our conversation by throwing his head back with a big ridiculous grin and saying, “Won’t eat the little yellow ladder, or the plastic bag, or the rocks, or the tent….”

My sweet silly boy.

Oh, and the highlight of the day for Windham was when a new friend with a 4 month old was astonished when Windham informed her that her baby doesn’t like the sun, because he was squinting. This was true. But my sweet boy was standing 3 feet below the baby, looking out for the baby's needs.