It's funny how much of this 'parenting' gig happens in the odd moments, the off hours. Today while dropping him off at school, we had this gem:
Me, as I'm hugging Jared: "I'm going to squeeze the love right out of you!"
Jared: "No! I want the love to stay inside me!... is there more love inside me?"
And then last night while tucking him in for bed, we had one of "The Conversations": death. We started out talking about how daddy's mommy was Safta, and Safta's mommy was Bubbe... "Who is Bubbe's mommy?" lead to a discussion of how she wasn't around anymore, which lead to "Am I going to die someday?" (how do you answer a three year old asking that question?!?) which lead to a discussion about how when people have had really long happy lives they die.
I felt so guilty that I might be messing him up forever at that point, so I then mentioned that "some people believe" they go to a place called heaven where you're happy all the time, but he did seem satisfied with my answers up until that point anyway.
