Daddy Always Brings Home The Coolest Stuff...

When N was small, I felt like I spent a lot of time and energy focusing on how I could protect her from things. The unsafe things. The scary things. And, of course, the I'm-not-sure-how-to-explain-this-yet-so-we're-just-not-going-to-talk-about-it things.

No honey, that little squirrel is just sleeping. In the middle of the road. Oh, squirrels just flatten themselves out like that when they sleep.

What's a cemetery? Oh, that's where we go to leave flowers for people who have died.

You have to be in your car seat because I wouldn't want you to need a band aid if we were ever in an accident.

Then she got gold fish for Christmas one year, and after a few months, we found one floating on top of the water. I wondered how to prepare her, when she looked at it and said,

Aww, little Coral looks like an angel. Now we need to get that dead fish out of there, mom.

She's also been to several funerals in the past few years, though we usually leave her and her brothers in the reception area and tell them it's just a family reunion.

My point is, I think she's onto me.

I also think she can handle this whole death thing much better than I gave her credit for.

I'm not off the hook, however. After all, she does have younger brothers, who are only one and three. I try to remember that, even though N gets the death thing now, they're still at an age where they need to be protected.

I think Jimmy and I are on the same page about this. I mean, aside from the occasional colorful word they've learned from him, I think he works hard to protect them from the same types of things I do.

Yesterday, for example, he came home from work and told them he brought them something. He reached into his van and retrieved it, as he told the kids to come see.

They were excited to see that he had brought home a salamander!

A real live salamander!

Oh wait, no, that's not entirely accurate.

Actually, it was a real dead salamander.

He thought it would still be cool for them to see. And they seemed to agree.

So they looked at it, and asked the obvious question--like where its eyes were, and where he had gotten it. Jimmy explained that he didn't know where its eyes were, and that his friend had left in his van for him.

What a pal.

B seemed more fascinated than traumatized, and I started thinking maybe I didn't need to protect him so much from the death thing at this point, either.

Later, B started talking about the salamander again. He asked how it died. I told him I didn't know.
He asked when we would die. I told him I thought when we were all very old, and that we'd go to Heaven, which is a really nice place.

He looked at me and said,

Well, then I don't think I want to get old, mom.

Oh, no, we've traumatized him with a dead salamander after all.

And yes, I'm using the term we very, very loosely here.

But then B looked at N and O, raised his arms, and said,

We don't want to get old, right guys? Everybody! Come on!

Don't Get Old!
Don't Get Old!
Don't Get Old!
Don't Get Old!


OK, so I'll admit it. I had to join in.
I'm sure some of the neighbors driving by wanted to join in, too.
Who knows. Maybe B has stumbled upon the secret to eternal youth.

I'm just sorry it's too late for the salamander.

Fortunately, any dead salamander related trauma seems to have subsided.
This morning, N hugged Jimmy as he was leaving for work, and said,

What are you going to bring us today, Dad?

Maybe a dead frog?