With all this chatter about Michael Gove, it brings me straight, and naturally it would seem, on to death. I don't know if we have necessarily arrived at that time of year when family pets are relocating to the great animal hotel in the sky and friend's parents seem to have been checking out of this world and into the next, much to the absolute despair of my eldest child, but let's for argument sake say we have. Yes, while we're on the subject, we have watched The Lion King, but both my children get too scared of that for it to even register on the philosophical or Darwinian scale. Even Elton John vomiting at us about "the circle of life" doesn't help. Still my eldest little Poirot wants to know "where do you go when you die?" "why do you have to die?" "Are you going to die?" "when will Monty (our dog) die?" "When Monty dies, can we get a rabbit and a kitten and two guinea pigs and a puppy?" It doesn't take long for her to see that death also allows for new things to be brought in to replace the old. Perhaps I've underestimated Elton.
The thing is, I want to be honest (despite my propensity to lie) without frightening my children. I want to make it as realistic as possible without sounding like a preacher or providing them with ammunition to take to school and frighten their class mates with. Something that has already happened re boarding schools, when my eldest announced to one of her friends, that "we all have to go to boarding school, and you only go home when your parents want to pick you up!" The mother of said child collared me in the playground after school and said "is your daughter going to boarding school?" to which I replied "not right now, no, why?" "because she has been telling my son that everyone goes to boarding school and you only get collected when your parents can be bothered to pick them up". She then inferred that I should probably set this right, so I inferred that her son should probably grow a pair and she should probably stop being such a militant bitch. It was lovely, and I know for a fact that not one other person witnessing the scene was at all awkward. I did it with a smile and a kind voice, so that's something. We're sort of friends now, in that we say hello when either of us catches the others eye, which is often quite hard to do as we're both usually searching the sky vigorously, or the ground so as not to make eye contact with anyone.
The point is, death is a very real and constant thing. How do you get the little inquiring mind to see it as something that is absolutely going to happen to all of us without frightening them out of their tiny little minds? And because of that, we should try our hardest not to worry about it, but see it as "quaint inevitability", like rain at Wimbledon or any bank holiday in Britain, like your child needing a wee the moment you get into a shop that will absolutely have no loo, nor will there be a loo for miles around that isn't guarded by single-minded jobsworths. Death is as inevitable as one's children behaving like out of control miscreants at the very mention of "please do try and be well behaved."
My parents dog was recently put down and my eldest cried ceaselessly until she fell asleep, earth shattering shudders and tears, and she didn't really know the dog all that well. Yesterday, when I inquired if anyone wanted to help me prepare the fish for tea, youngest basically told me to shove off, but eldest came and helped. She held the fish and made me watch as she moved the fish as they would have done in the wild and said "look Mummy, this is how the fish would look when it wasn't dead! Oh, I don't want the fishy to die. Did it die Mummy or was it killed?". I, riddled with guilt having seen the fish look really real in its very dead state, plumped for, "No, it definitely died". Which is actually the truth, but the very lamest truth I know. This question is usually asked when all meals are prepared. "Did the chicken die Mummy or was it dead?". I know what they mean, but I always say, "No, I think we can be pretty sure that this chicken died, it's sad, but, at least it's tasty murder..." I usually leave the last bit, I'm not a total witch.
So it's settled, my children need to sit down in front of News 24 and, as I suggested to the lady who I would now class as an acquaintance, grow a pair, they're going to learn sooner or later. In fact, blow it, I should take them out into the garden, make them run while I shoot at them and throw hand grenades around them. "It's a tough old world you guys, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, you should be thankful you're not Myles, he's locked in his cot, at least I'm here, teaching you a lesson, do you see how I care?". This is surely their loss and simultaneous gain as well as my gain but loss of their innocence, is it worth it?
The thing is, I want to be honest (despite my propensity to lie) without frightening my children. I want to make it as realistic as possible without sounding like a preacher or providing them with ammunition to take to school and frighten their class mates with. Something that has already happened re boarding schools, when my eldest announced to one of her friends, that "we all have to go to boarding school, and you only go home when your parents want to pick you up!" The mother of said child collared me in the playground after school and said "is your daughter going to boarding school?" to which I replied "not right now, no, why?" "because she has been telling my son that everyone goes to boarding school and you only get collected when your parents can be bothered to pick them up". She then inferred that I should probably set this right, so I inferred that her son should probably grow a pair and she should probably stop being such a militant bitch. It was lovely, and I know for a fact that not one other person witnessing the scene was at all awkward. I did it with a smile and a kind voice, so that's something. We're sort of friends now, in that we say hello when either of us catches the others eye, which is often quite hard to do as we're both usually searching the sky vigorously, or the ground so as not to make eye contact with anyone.
The point is, death is a very real and constant thing. How do you get the little inquiring mind to see it as something that is absolutely going to happen to all of us without frightening them out of their tiny little minds? And because of that, we should try our hardest not to worry about it, but see it as "quaint inevitability", like rain at Wimbledon or any bank holiday in Britain, like your child needing a wee the moment you get into a shop that will absolutely have no loo, nor will there be a loo for miles around that isn't guarded by single-minded jobsworths. Death is as inevitable as one's children behaving like out of control miscreants at the very mention of "please do try and be well behaved."
My parents dog was recently put down and my eldest cried ceaselessly until she fell asleep, earth shattering shudders and tears, and she didn't really know the dog all that well. Yesterday, when I inquired if anyone wanted to help me prepare the fish for tea, youngest basically told me to shove off, but eldest came and helped. She held the fish and made me watch as she moved the fish as they would have done in the wild and said "look Mummy, this is how the fish would look when it wasn't dead! Oh, I don't want the fishy to die. Did it die Mummy or was it killed?". I, riddled with guilt having seen the fish look really real in its very dead state, plumped for, "No, it definitely died". Which is actually the truth, but the very lamest truth I know. This question is usually asked when all meals are prepared. "Did the chicken die Mummy or was it dead?". I know what they mean, but I always say, "No, I think we can be pretty sure that this chicken died, it's sad, but, at least it's tasty murder..." I usually leave the last bit, I'm not a total witch.
So it's settled, my children need to sit down in front of News 24 and, as I suggested to the lady who I would now class as an acquaintance, grow a pair, they're going to learn sooner or later. In fact, blow it, I should take them out into the garden, make them run while I shoot at them and throw hand grenades around them. "It's a tough old world you guys, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, you should be thankful you're not Myles, he's locked in his cot, at least I'm here, teaching you a lesson, do you see how I care?". This is surely their loss and simultaneous gain as well as my gain but loss of their innocence, is it worth it?
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