So...we've had this problem. Not a big problem...just sort of a creepy, slightly morbid, problem.
You see, Curtis has spent the last few months telling everyone about his brother.
His dead brother.
Who died.
(I know, creepy, right?)
He has embellished this story for many people. He has added details and descriptions that continue to astound and amaze us. (His brother used to pester him at night with his pokey fingers. His brother is up in Heaven watching Curtis to make sure no bad guys get him. His brother doesn't like macaroni and cheese.) But the basis of the story has remained unchanged: He had a brother who is no longer with us. I've argued with him, trying to convince him that I truly never gave birth to another boy. His answer to that was that his brother had another mom. Who, of course, died.
(Remind me, when my son is in therapy years from now, that I should have seen it coming.)
Today the story changed in a bizarre and unexpected manner. Today we found a broken marble.
Meet Joe. Marble Joe.
He is, apparently, Curtis' brother. And we have been regaled with new stories about his brother Joe who, as you can see, is no longer dead.
(Good grief, the therapist bills are going to be astronomical.)