Addie and I were on our way to playgroup at the YMCA this morning when some song came on the radio that began, "When I die...."
Addie said, "Mommy, when am I going to die?"
"Oh, Addie. I don't know. Not until you're very old, probably."
"I don't know, Addie. Not until you're really, really old. Like, ninety-nine years old. Maybe older."
"Do you think I'll die by my birthday party?"
"Definitely not. No way. You'll definitely be around for your birthday party."
"But I want to die!!!!!!!"
"You know, I don't really want to talk about this anymore."
This is not what it sounds like. Addie's been interested in death for a while now, every since I told her about my Aunt Ruth dying. She's interested again this week because we watched Lilo and Stitch 2, in which Stitch dies but Lilo brings him back to life with the strength of her love (though she couldn't bring her dead parents back with the strength of her love, apparently. Got to love Disney. Wouldn't be a Disney movie if they didn't knock off the mom). This, of course, is a pain in the ass, because it makes it seem like death isn't permanent, like a kid could prevent it if she really, really wanted to. How am I supposed to explain that? I'm going to boycott Disney, now. I hate Disney.
And, of course, Addie is very interested in her third birthday party, which is approaching. So I think this conversation was just about combining the two interests. If you didn't know this, though, it would sound like a very morbid conversation with a very strange two-year-old. Which it sort of also was.
I'm glad Nolie can't talk yet. She just smiles and poops and urps and is incredibly adorable. And that's just fine with me.