Last night, as E was getting ready for bed, he struck up a conversation with me regarding death, of all things:
"Mom, sometimes bad things happen. Sometimes they happen to little kids. Sometimes little kids die."
"That's true, sometimes children die. But everyone dies, you know."
"Well, I haven't died yet."
"I know, and I'm glad you're still alive."
"I'm glad I'm still not died [sic] too. I hope I don't die for a long, long, long time."
"I hope that too, baby."
"Mom, I hope you don't die for a long, long, long time either."
Pause while Mommy tries not to cry.
"Ok, let's brush my teeth."
The workings of kids' minds are amazing to me. I don't understand how someone who has lived for not quite 4 years can mentally wrestle with the concept of his mother's death, not to mention his own. We discuss it, but in relation to things like bugs and pet fish. I did take him to my best friend's grandpa's funeral about a month ago, and that sparked some interesting discussions about missing people that we love and heaven, etc. I suppose his mind was just working away at the idea all of this time and eventually he worked it around to apply it to himself. The sheer delight of watching how kids grow and develop is reason enough to be a parent, in my opinion.
The human brain is amazing. Too bad I'm terrible at neurosciences, or I might actually find it interesting...
My slightly-insane life and times
1 comment:
Your child obviously has a leg up in his spiritual and intellectual development. When i was his age my mother and I were walking along and witnessed a dead bird on the sidewalk. Being the curious child I was and relating this instance to the most infuriating happenstances of my short life, I tapped the bird slightly with my foot and with disgust commented, "Mommy, its batteries are dead, fix it."
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