One time, when my daughter was about 3, I found myself engaged in a conversation with her about her birth. We talked for a while about how she grew in my tummy, and then I pushed her out and nursed her and so forth.
She was quietly absorbing all this, and then she looked at me, her clear blue eyes intently staring into my own and asked:
“Remember a long time ago when you grew in my tummy and I pushed you out and I was your Mommy?”
I said that no, I didn’t and she was very insistent that it happened.
You may call it childish embellishment or active imagination. The Buddhist in me, however, got goosebumps….