…death to a three-year-old? A week or so ago, my mum was visiting from Australia and overheard me trying to explain to my daughter why the fly on the windowsill couldn’t fly away. I said it got old, had finished living and now it was dead.
My bubble frowned, then looked suspicious.”What dead?”
“It went to sleep forever,” I said. “It lived as long as it could, and then it got so tired that it went to sleep. Now it’s gone and it can’t wake up anymore.”
Bubble didn’t understand. “Why did it dive, Mummy?” she asked.
“No, sweetie, not dive, die.” Continue reading