As I walk up the stairs toward the children’s level of the house, I hear Charlotte and Calvin’s voices. They’re disputing something, but I can’t make out what the argument is about.
Charlotte bursts out, “Mom. Calvin thinks he’s not going to DIE. I told him that EVERYONE dies.”
First off, it’s sunrise on a beautiful spring morning. The sky is clear for the first time after several days of rain. Baked oatmeal with blueberries and bananas waits for us in the kitchen because I made it last night. And birds are twittering right outside the window, bustling about with their mates as they build nests.
But Charlotte feels it imperative to convince her 3.5 year old brother that he’s going to die.
I scoop Calvin up in my arms and ask him why he thinks he isn’t going to die.
Calvin smiles and says, “Because I’m made of metal. And plastic. And bricks.”