The Cowardly Lyin'

When I called my friend Greg to arrange carpooling for Friday, I learned that his Mom had passed away and that he wouldn't be going to work at all. It was a quick conversation: I clumsily offered my condolences and we made arrangments for me to carpool with his lesson plans instead (Greg, for the record, is much better company in the morning than his lesson plans). Wrig, who was finishing up dinner, asked "What was the ... what was bad news?" My initial reaction was to get over my shock of her use of the words "bad news," because I don't think I said them in the conversation. Then I had to figure out what to tell her.

D: My friend, Greg ... he got some ... he got some ... bad news.
W: What?
D: Well ... Greg's mom is ... (long pause ... desperately seeking wise, parental way to introduce the subject of death) ... Greg's mom is ... very sick ...
W: Oh. Ok.

I know that there isn't any need to hide death from kids. I know that it's healthier for kids to see death as part of the cycle of life and blah, blah, blah. But I'm not ready to introduce Wrigley to the concept that Moms Can Die quite yet. I'm 34 and I can't really wrap my brain around the idea, so how am I going to explain it to my kid? I'm not. I'm just going to lie and move on to bed time.

Not, I confess, my most noble moment as a parent. Now, if I only had a brain ...