G asked about Goldie this morning.  I was in bed and Chris was getting juice for our enormously thirsty children at 6am.  From what I understand, the conversation went like this:

G:  “See Goldie, see Goldie?”

Daddy:  “Goldie died, baby, we’re not going to see her anymore.  She went to be with Jesus in Heaven.”

G:  “Oh, ok.”

Then he quietly hugged Chris for a minute or two and that was it.

Later in the morning, after we watched a movie together – and he actually sat still in my lap for the whole movie – he started crying and I could not get him to tell me what was wrong.  I listed all the options – hurt, sad, angry, etc.  I finally asked, “Do you miss anyone?”  No response.  “Do you miss Goldie?”

G:  “No.  She go be with Jesus.”

Very matter-of-fact and certain.  He understood as best as his four-year-old mind could and he remembered what Daddy told him.  It was hard to hide my tears.

So I moved on…to an option I had already covered but would cover again considering the germs in our house this week.

Me:  “Does your belly hurt?”

G:  “Yes.”

He seems fine now, no puke-a-rama yet, and hopefully not at all.  He stopped crying a few minutes later and is playing like a champ.

Gulps