Last weekend being Memorial Day we decided to go to the cemetery to visit the final resting places of some loved ones. That's when the questions began and I became horrified. Remind me never to discuss the definition of a cemetery with a three year old...The conversation went a little something like this: Anna: where are we going mom, huh, where? Me: to the cemetery. Anna: what's a cemetery? Me: It's a place where we bury people's bodies when they die. Anna: In the ground? Me: Yeah. Anna: How do we get them in the ground. Me: (trying to be succinct) When someone dies, they dig a hole, put them in a box, put them in the hole, and bury them. Anna: How do they get the shovel back out. Me: Well the person that dies (I guess I should have been more specific about who THEY were) doesn't dig the hole, someone else does so the shovel is never in the hole. Anna: Do they cry when they put them in the box? Me: (I would rather do anything than finish this conversation). No their dead so they can't feel anything or be happy or sad. It's like when the guinea pig and dog died. Their bodies were there but the part of them that makes them happy or sad went to live with Jesus. Anna: Am I going to die and go in the box. Me: (AHHHHHHHHH!! what the hell do I tell her now). Not for a long long time. Anna: Mom, when I die will I go live with that guy? Me: What guy. Anna: That guy, what's his name again.... Me: Jesus? Anna: Yeah him. Me: Yep. We arrive at the first cemetery, enter into the building where they store the ashes, and I see a very grave (ha, ha) conversation about to occur and I try distraction (the ultimate kid defense mechanism). Oh look Anna, Hailey cookies and lemonade. Would you like some? Anna: What is this place. Me: It's where Daddy's grandparents are being stored? (in hindsight "stored" probably wasn't the correct word to use). Anna: Why is this box so little. A whole person can't fit in there. Me: (What do I say now.? I could make up a story about a machine that shrinks people or I could just tell it like it is...horrifying..I weighed my options and chose the truth.) Sometimes when someone dies they (wince) burn the body and (speaking so quickly and quietly that I hoped she really wouldn't hear) put the ashes in a box...Hey look over there do you want 5 more cookies (since I never let my kids have more than 1 usually, this tactic worked). We then loaded back into the minivan and proceeded to the next cemetery. At this one we visited someone's remains that were buried. After locating her plot. Anna stands on the grave and says: that's funny, I can't feel her under there, why not? At this point Anna and Hailey take off running across the hill, squealing, and playing hopscotch on the headstones, to the chagrin of many people there to enjoy an otherwise beautiful and peaceful Memorial Day. I wince, begin screeching at my wild children, and remind them that this is a place like church or the library and they need to be respectful and reverent. Anna looks up at me and says: mom, (I stupidly thought she may have something profound to say and wait with puffed chest and the thought of wonderful 3 year old utterances I'd be able to brag about to my friends)I have to pee right now in that bush...Ahhh amazing children!
