CPT Kindergarten got up after being put into bed a couple of nights ago and told me he had to go poo-poo. He is still afraid of being in the bathroom by himself, so I parked my backside on the edge of the bathtub while he went about the necessarys. This is always when CPT Kindergarten shares his deepest thoughts and most entrenched worries with me.
"I don't want to die." He told me. I really didn't expect to be having a conversation on death that evening, but I went with it.
"Well we'll all die someday, but you've probably got a while before you do buddy."
"I don't want to die because if I do then you won't be there and I'll be lonely." It always surprises me that even after I spend the day torturing him with after school lessons, cleaning up his toys, and timeouts, he still feels really attached to me. "Gosh kid, don't you want to get away from the repression?" I think. But I'm glad he doesn't and I'll fight that wool tooth and nail when I start to see it trying to slip away from his eyes.
"Well, since I'm older than you, I'll probably die first. But that won't happen for a long time still most likely. And do you know what the cool thing is? Your Dad and I were sealed in the temple so when all of us die, we'll be able to find each other in heaven and be together again."
"But there are a lot of girl angels aren't there?"
"What do you mean buddy?"
"How will I know which angel you are since all the girls will be dressed in white."
"You'll know me buddy. And if you don't recognize me, I'll recognize you in a second. And I'll tell all those other girl angels to get their hands off of you because you're my boy."
"Munner (his great grandma) is going to die soon."
"Maybe in the next five or ten years she might, but that's OK because we'll see her again in Heaven too."
He was all done and cleaned up by this time and had come over by me to finish the conversation. And something about being away from the potty seat took his worries away and brought his sillys back.
"What if you and I and Munner all die at the same time? And then we get to heaven at the same time and it's so crowded we all bonk heads?" He bonked his hand into his head and kicked a leg up into the air and made an I'm-groaning-in-pain sort of sound. So I did the same thing and he did it again and we both laughed there in the bathroom way past bed time while talking about death.
Three cheers for oddly beautiful unexpected moments.
4 comments:
What a sweet boy! There is a part of me that feels so cheated from not knowing your little munchkins. It shouldn't be this way! I would be beyond giddy if we were to live close enough to have play dates and share in each others' joys and failings. As soon as I found out I was pregnant, I wanted to talk to you so bad. I am so inspired by how you mother your four (even and maybe especially among the chaotic moments) and hope so much I can channel some of that in making this adjustment to three.
And, now I need to go and read the posts below that I had no idea were here this whole time. Not sure how I've gotten so behind!
I am glad you are blogging so you can remember this brilliant times in the course of motherhood.
He is a smart and precious boy. Evan has brought up death a few times recently too. Maybe it's a 5-year-old thing. They are deeper than we think. :)
Megan - I'm so excited about your pregnancy. Life is full handed and plenty full of opportunities to be humble and to grow (which means, for me, I lose my temper a lot and then try to figure out how not to do it again) with lots of little ones around, but its also funny and fun. You'll do great!
Mom - this blog was the best thing ever for keeping in touch with you and my mother-in-law, the husband when he is away, and to show my children in the future that at least I really was trying.
Gretchen - huh, maybe 5 is the time to first have to confront death, the poor, innocent things.
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