It seems bedtime is the best time for my boys to just open up their little hearts and ask the most probing, deep questions. All day it's the usual, "Why is the sky blue"and "tell me about dinosaurs" stuff. At night, it gets more philosophical. And it's usually as I'm reaching for the door when a little voice pipes up: "Momma? Can I ask you something?"
Why, just tonight we covered infertility and adoption, death, Heaven and Hell, the 9-11 Attacks, and the Presidential elections. I try to stay age-appropriate but not brush them off. I come upstairs hoping I've addressed their concerns and given them peace.
Once, though, it wasn't at bedtime that I got a surprise. I was backing up out of the driveway when Max announced, "Mom, I don't want to die." Me: "Whaaaa?" Bonk, I backed right into my neighbor's bumper. His steel contraption is fine. Mine is slightly dinged. I still cringe over that.
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