It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the time (second grade) when kids try to figure out death.
“Your mom’s DEAD!” my son reminds me from the back seat. “I know,” I say. “That’s a real thing. It makes me sad.” But nothing I say changes his interest in the subject or death and dying.
When his preschool sisters try to keep up with their brother’s fascination, it gets weird. His study of death gets mixed up with conversations about hunted houses.
“Your mom’s a ZOMBIE!” my four-year-old daughter declares happily.
I flashed back to my mother, and thought she might find this funny. I hope so.