Postby Inyureye » Thu Feb 03, 2005 4:40 pm
I was walking with my then just 4 year old granddaughter Tasha along the rural road we lived on, discussing all manner of animals, plants (poison ivy, three shiny leaves, don't touch - you wouldn't beleive how many plants contain only three leaves, it turns out) and she was bending down to count leaves on some lovely shiny poison ivy and came face to face with a dead sparrow. I noticed it soon as she did. I know she hadn't been explained about death, yet, either by her dad, mom, or me, so I considered this an opportunity not to be wasted. So, apparently, did she.
"Oh," she said.
"Oh, dear" I said, trying to get my ducks in a row quickly.
"Poor little Chip", she mourned.
"What?" I asked.
"Poor, DEAR little Chip. He's dead, you know".
"He is!" I exclaimed, and now I was the student. Where was THIS going?
"Yes," she continued, "he died in a fire," and stood up and sighed, walking on.
I took her hand a bit perplexed. "A fire you say".
"Yes," she repeated, "He died in a fire, and his mother is looking for him EVERYwhere."
I was getting all verklempt. What an awful, sad story. I hardly knew what to say. "Well," I stuttered, "I guess she would be..."
"Just like me", said Tasha.
"What do you mean just like you?"
"My name was Chip, and I died in a fire too, last time, and my mother was looking for me everywhere. She was very sad."
I swear this is a true converstion. I then said, "I am sure she was very, very sad. But really Tasha, you are fine, and your mother knows right where you are and she is perfectly happy."
Tasha said "Oh, that was my OTHER mother, lasterday. This is a different mother, now." (Lasterday means "a long time ago" to Tasha. She uses yesterday to mean yesterday, or a few days ago.)
I figured it was time to count some more poison ivy leaves. "One, two, three, four, nope, not poison ivy..."
Last edited by
Inyureye on Thu Feb 03, 2005 4:56 pm, edited 1 time in total.
