My daughter, the budding playwright, decided she needed us to truly get into character for her latest script. She's writing a play about a wicked woman who wants to give a fairy princess a set of poisoned coins to kill her(Snow White, anyone?). So that we could get the underlying story, she made a simple statement.
"Okay, I need you guys to imagine, like, if I died. What kind of tombstone would you get me?"
My wife's face went white and I nearly fell out of my chair. Imagining your child dead isn't what one would call the most pleasurable of pastimes. We tried explaining to her that parents don't like imagining their little girls in the process of decay, but she just didn't get it.
"But it's just a play," she protested. "I'm not really going to die."
On an intellectual level, I understand. On an emotional one, I say "no way in Hell."
This made me think back to a time my own brother and I were playing around in my mom's car during a trip somewhere. We were saying our wishes, and I said something to the effect of, "I wish you were dead." I thought my mom would explode.
It took me 30 years to understand the reaction. It's amazing how those little moments make you question your own sanity, as well as your commitment to staying intellectual. I could have rationally explained it to her or played along, for it is just a play, and I don't want to dampen her creative spirit. However, the dad in me came out.
"Don't ever say such a thing again," I said. "Now go read Green Eggs and Ham."
Not my most shining moment, but how many parents would have reacted differently?
Russ
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