Monday, May 3, 2010

George Washington can suck my left tit!   

I learned quickly that explaining what death is to a three-year-old is not easy. And I’m not smart enough, evidently, to explain it in a caring, round-about way. I blame George fucking Washington for this shit. Because, y’all, why’d that fucker have to die?! If he were still alive, the conversation I had with lil J about death would not have even happened.

Lil J: : Mommy, who’s this old guy on my money?
Me: George Washington. He was a president a long time ago.

Lil J: Oh. Well, where is he now?

Me: He’s dead.

Lil J: How’d he die?

Me: I don’t know…I guess he was just old and crusty.

Lil J: Oh.

Then, she got out of the car and went to school. And, I went on my merry way to work, figuring that was the end of that conversation. *whew*. But, when I picked her up from school, we picked right back up where we left off.

Lil J: Mommy?

Me: Huh?

Lil J: What happened to the old, crusty guy after he was dead?

Me: What do you mean?

Lil J: Where’d he go?

Me: I guess he was buried.

Lil J: WHAT?! BURIED in the DIRT?!

Me: Yes, but then his spirit went to heaven with baby Jesus.

Lil J: Poor guy.

Me: Well, everyone has to die some time.

Lil J: But, I don’t want to be dead.

Me: You have a loooong time to live, you’re not old and crusty.

Lil J: Ok.

Then, we got home. And I figured that was that. No more talk of death. We had dinner. We laughed. We played. We argued. We let the dog out. Same ol’ shit. I got Lil J in the shower, scrubbed her down, washed her hair and left her there to play a little while I washed my face and whatnot. That’s when the crying started.

Me: What in the world is wrong?!

Lil J: I don’t want to be dead!

Me: Oh, for pete’s sake. No one lives forever. It’s ok. Really.

Lil J: But, I don’t want to buried. I don’t want to be dead. I don’t want to be old and crusty.

Me: Oh, baby. It’s ok. You’ll be an angel.

Lil J: I don’t want to be an angel! I want to be a person!

That’s when I noticed Hubber in the doorway looking absolutely mortified.

Hubber: WTF?!

Me: Uhm. It’s all because of George Washington!

Hubber: What is wrong with you?! You don’t say shit like that to a baby!

Me: Baby?! She’s almost FOUR!

Hubber: Don’t listen to Mommy, she’s crazy. You don’t have to worry about dying. Ok? I promise.

Lil J: Ok, Daddy.

So, basically, I’m the bad guy and Daddy is the hero because in his little made up world, no one dies. They just go away to Neverland or some shit. What happens when someone she knows actually DOES die?! What then?! And we can’t even explain this shit in a religious type of way because we haven’t introduced Lil J to CHURCH or GOD or anyone except 8 lb, 6 oz baby Jesus for crissakes!

Anyway, so now….NOW….I’m sticking to the story that: NO, we won’t die… because, she asks me at least once a day now whether or not we’ll die. I say, “no,” and change the subject quickly. That seems to do the trick. For now.

POST UPDATED:
Holy shitballs, y'all...I just got this over email....is it a sign?? 

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