This story takes place when my son turned three. It may also be hard to believe since we're dealing with money.
We had moved into the house that my grandfather left for me. (being his only grand-daughter). My grandfather had died a few months before and I was still trying to cope with the fact that he was gone. It was only me and my son and this gigantic estate.
One day, after hours of unpacking, I fixed my son and I some sandwiches. We decided to eat them in the dining room together. It was getting late so I asked him if he was sleepy. My son had a speech problem so I expected him to just nod his head. But I was surprised at what he told me.
"Mommy," my son pointed to the wall in back of me. "Grandpa said he wants you to open the wall." I stayed looking at him and told him that Grandpa went to heaven a long time ago. Then he looked at me again and said, "Mommy, there's a hammer by the washing machine. Grandpa said you have to open the wall NOW!"
I was shocked at this behavior. I asked him to repeat himself, but he just stared at me very blankly. How could he say that? What did he mean? Something came over me at that instant, and I decided to bust open the wall.
I took three hard blows with the hammer. On the fourth strike the wall caved in. And tons of money and jewelry fell to my feet. I just gasped and my jaw fell to the floor!
"How did you know that all this was here Jermaine?" I asked. But my son just stared at me. Then he waved at the door, pointed, and very playfully said, "Grandpa go bye."
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