Bright children = Big questions
So Demon Baby was mad at me and said, "I think you should DIE, Mom."
"Well, Demon, that's actually not a very nice thing to say."
"Why?"
"Because if I were dead, I wouldn't see you anymore. I would still be your mommy but I wouldn't be here to hug you . . . and death . . . well, it's forever. "
"Why?"
"Because that's what death is."
"Why?"
"Because we're born and then . . . someday we die. We all do. Some sooner than others. I hope to one day be an old lady holding my grandbabies."
"So are you gonna die?"
"Someday."
"Why?"
"We just went through that."
"Where will you go?"
"Heaven." (Seemed the simplest answer at the moment. I thought of launching into my "Why I Want to be Cremated" speech, but . . . )
"Where's that?"
"Someplace."
"Who's there?"
"Other spirits and angels and God."
"What do you do there?"
"Not sure. Be with God. Maybe watch over our family."
"Why would God want you up there? What's HE going to do with you?"
"Don't know, Demon."
"Will you play games?"
"Don't know."
"Read stories?"
"Don't know."
"Feed the dogs?'
"Maybe. I think dogs go to heaven."
"But I need you."
"Well, yes. So hopefully I won't die anytime soon."
"Don't."
"I'll make an effort."
"Don't die."
"I'll try. But you see, that's why you shouldn't say things like that."
He wandered off, then came back five minutes later. "Can we call God and ask him about this?"
"No. We can't. But we can pray."
"Okay. So pray."
So we did.
"I love you, Mom."
"I love you, Demon."
"No, I REALLY love you."
"Well, I REALLY love you."
And off he went. But somehow, I know that's not the end to his questions. They're too big. And I don't really have any good answers.
Not really.
It's all a mystery.
But maybe someday I will feed the dogs in heaven.
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