Sam is quite a poet/rhymer. He is making up new songs all the time and likes to make new words up out of things we say.
He also has a new "imaginary" friend named Banjo. For the last week or so, as he narrates his life around the house or outside, I will occasionally hear him say, "banjo." Finally, today, I asked him to tell me about banjo. I was thinking that it would be an instrument he is incorporating into his very elaborate play scenes (complete with buttons in every room, campfires, gas stations with ribbons as hoses, charging stations for electric cars, garage for haycutters, and on and on.)
Sam, tell me about Banjo.
He's my friend. And, um, he doesn't have a home.
Where does he live?
In a hotel.
Where is the hotel?
It's right back there. I will rock to it and knock at the door. Helloooo.
Did Banjo come out?
Hello Banjo. Babble, babble. This is my ... He doesn't have a nose.
Why not?
His nose broke off.
Is he sad?
He's hap-py. (jump, jump.)
How old is Banjo?
He is 45 - 26 and he is going to hop into his truck and start it up and turn it on.
He doesn't have feet either. He is going to the grocery store. He is a big boy.
What is he going to get?
Peach-apple-lemonade. He is getting out of the car now and this big box is the muffler.
What does the muffler do?
It helps to run the car quietly. And the exhaust fumes come out right here.
Is there anything else you want to me about Banjo?
No. I'm going to color now.
NOTE: Sam was asking me what would happen if his campfire (in the living room) starting to burn up the house. After a lengthy explanation of fire and home destruction, he always says, "Tell me the rest." The rest was for us to live at a hotel for awhile since we wouldn't have a home. Which explains Banjo's homelessness. Sam was flabergasted that a hotel room does not have a kitchen and he would not have a living room for his toys.
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