The obsession with death and life continues.
"Mommy, when Grandpa died out, did you make a video?"
I am not sure I'm hearing correctly, so I ask him to repeat it and he does.
"No, honey, we didn't."
"What?! You didn't get it on video?" He seems to be personally insulted or offended at this perceived slight. I have to explain to him that Grandpa was at the hospital and we didn't get to be with him. Any discussion about recording death, I think, can be tabled. Random questions about death keep occurring at the most improbable times, and I do my best to keep that precarious balance. I attempt to be truthful without offering too much information. I try to answer questions the best I can without causing fear.
The other fixation for Z is about which animals carry babies "in their tummies." We have had the "mammal" discussion, and my children have been exposed to an unusually great number of pregnant women at playdates and at preschool. Multiples are a popular topic especially. Z loves to discuss how many babies are in the tummies of various creatures and how they will drink from their mommies. He loves to talk about how when he was a baby, he used to drink milk from his mommy. He likes to "milk" the wooden cow and goat at the zoo rigged with rubber udders for the children to try. He is eager to learn from whose tummy various people came. It is not unusual for him to cuddle up to me and ask me, "Tell about when I was in your tummy," and I do. I tell him stories about how happy I and everyone was. I tell him of flying in airplanes, singing to him, floating belly-down in the water, and petting a real dolphin. I tell him about the preparations for his arrival and things we did together while I carried him in my tummy. These are some of his favorite stories. What a tender age to show such concern about preparing for life and death.