Now that everyone is on the mend and catching up on sleep, we are all in a much better mood. Last night, after picking up Michael's new bike, we all relaxed and ended up having a major tickle wrestle battle. There was much giggling and a few wedgies were given. The perfect night in my little world.
After we were done, Andy left the room to exercise and Michael and I continued to chat. I don't remember what we were talking about, but Michael made a comment about when he's 92. Before I knew what was happening, I heard these words coming out of my mouth. "When you are 92, I'll be dust."
What!...where did that come from and why on earth did I say it?
Needless to say, Michael found them to be upsetting.
"But mommy, you'll still be real, right?" Which is his way of asking if I'll still be alive.
Crap, crap, crap. Do I lie and comfort him? Do I distract and try to avoid the topic? I was completely cornered knowing that I couldn't do either. So, Michael and I had a little discussion about how people die when they get older while he cried and clung to me. It was both sweet and sad and I feel like a complete ass for slipping to begin with.
As a mom, I want so badly to protect him from everything. I don't want him to worry that someone he loves might die. But, the reality is that one of these days he won't just have to learn about the idea of people dying, he'll have to face it as a reality. And there is nothing in this world that I can do to protect him from that. The best I can do is prepare him with knowledge and make sure he knows that I'm always there if he needs me.
I assure you, the mama bear in me does not like this at all. Not one little bit.