My family has a long-standing tradition when it comes to learning how to drive. You do it in a cemetery. There are lots of roads to practice driving, turning and parking - and if you run over someone there is a good chance they are already dead. Poor taste, I know - but that joke was told to me by my Great Grandmother the day I learned to drive, and I still find it funny. When you have a 15 year old behind the wheel you want to minimize the damage if you can, so off we went to find a cemetery. The Punk's older brother was ready to start cruising the graveyard, so The Punk and I took a little time to go on a Nature Walk while Daddy gave the Older Son a driving lesson.
The Punk doesn't know much about death. He's 3.5, and luckily hasn't had any experience (that he knows of - we lied about he cat) with death so far in his short life. For this, I feel blessed. I don't want him to feel that kind of hurt or confusion for as long as possible.
So - this led me to have some answers ready for the "Where are we?" and "What is this place?" kind of questions I was sure we would face. My answers were prepared in vain. The Punk never asked, so I never volunteered. I guess he just assumed we were at some sort of park, and went about looking for twigs and leaves. I told him the rule about not disturbing flowers that were in vases, and he only stopped to look or smell them. Once he stopped pick up a small fallen flag, and replanted in the tombstone, and just kept going.
I love this child.
Our bounty from our walk: a Pine cone, a twig, some small wild flowers, some leaves, an acorn cap, and a small rock. And the Older Son didn't run over anyone - dead or alive. It was a good day at the Graveyard.