Of Guinea Pigs and Men

Where oh, where will 3 1/2 months more of growing go!?

I'm testing the freelance waters again as I got a sign that what I've been contemplating writing is something that needs to be written. First a bit of background: In our long odyssey of a move from Hawaii to the Midwest, my family took a pitstop in St. Louis where we planned to catch up with family and recharge for the next leg of the trip. Randy, our sweet-natured (most of the time) dog took the occasion to commit guinea pig-icide on the beloved pet of our hosts. Nibbles, was my niece's and nephew's pride and joy and unfortunately his death ushered in a quick loss of innocence and a multitude of questions that neither I nor my brother-in-law or sister-in-law were prepared for. My niece and nephew questioned God, attempted to bargain with him, and cried heartfelt tears of loss and despair. My daughter just watched silently. I was actually somewhat surprised by her seeming lack of emotion as there was not a dry eye in the house, but I also wasn't taking into account my daughter's modus operandi...Watch carefully, ask questions later.

The questions began the next day; starting with "Why did Randy shake Nibbles? Why is Nibbles in the ground now. Is Nibbles getting dirty down there? What does die mean? Will I die? Will you? What is heaven? You said once that Sam (dog-friend of the family) died because she was sick, will I die from getting sick? Do just old people die, or do kids die too?" On and on the questions came and are still coming. When my answers are incomplete or if I am unsure of how to answer, my sharp little girl sees right through me. My own questions have been cropping up too. My daughter has grown up watching Strawberry Shortcake and other sorts of fluff with a "don't hurt others feelings" message, but never with any sort of death. She doesn't like scary stuff and so things like Bambi where the mother dies have seemed like not very good options. My nephews on the other hand, run around and pretend to die and to kill each other all the time. Now, I know that their concept of the permanency of death is still immature, but it caused me to wonder, Do we do our daughters a disservice by trying to keep all violent images out of the house? In her play, the princess never dies.

So my personal and professional interest in the matter of talking to kids about death without making the world seem harsh and foreboding has been ping-ponging around in my head for a while, but the day before yesterday in our city's parenting magazine, I saw a letter to the editor which expressed a wish to see articles on this exact topic. I've found experts in the area to interview, and I've thought long and hard about the direction I'd like to go with the article and I queried the editor...and now I sit and wait. I am by nature somewhat impatient, so I am trying to cultivate patience and also summon enough chutzpah to act like I can get this done and then to really do it.

**Short little aside--my niece and nephew still mourn Nibbles, but greatly look forward to getting a dog (so they've obviously forgiven the shortcomings of the canine)