"Mommy, for your birthday, I'm going to draw a picture of Daddy marrying someone else."
He said it with a smile and a twinkle. As if I could want nothing more.
"Oh, really? Who is he marrying?"
"I don't knoooo-ooooow... you'll just have to wait and see. But I'll give you a hint: her dress is blue."
"You may not ride your bike or scooter in the street. There are cars out there. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, but if I get smashed, I can just go and visit my dad."
"But you can't come back. And that doesn't work for me. Stay on the sidewalk."
These conversations, these journeys into the concept of an encounter with death before kindergarten - these have no scripts.
Please, God, help me.