So a few minutes before we departed my parents’ Texas home yesterday, the little people finished yet another viewing of my mom’s copy of Up.
“It’s almost time to leave!” I announced.
The E-man promptly fell into hysterics.
“We’ll come visit again,” I said, hugging him.
“I don’t WANT to get old!” the E-man replied. “I don’t WANT to die!”
“Um. What are you talking about, E-man.”
“When you get old and die, you can’t move your arms and legs,” he wailed.
I looked questioningly at Tootie, who shrugged.
“He asked me to explain,” she said, gesturing toward the DVD cover.
Oh, great, I thought, all too aware of Tootie’s love for scaring the crap out of her little brother.
Thus began a discussion about aging, dying and the afterlife.
The E-man was somewhat mollified. But then his eyes narrowed.
“How old is Nana?” he asked.
“Er … ”
“How old is Granddaddy? How old is Papaw?”
“How old are you?”
“Oh, I’m only 39!”
And the E-man exploded into tears yet again.