Even casual observers of DadWagon must know that I love me some kids-ponder-death writing. I do it myself as often as the cheerful bastards who co-blog here will allow.
The one thing we’ve decided to fudge is that we are promising our 4-year-old daughter Dalia that we won’t die and that her little brother won’t die. As in, ever. Because she asks, but she doesn’t want to hear about cycle of life and all that crap. She wants to hear that she is safe and that we are safe. Until the day I’m smote by my maker—or until she’s a little older—that is my story and I’m sticking to it.