Avoiding Explaining Death to Your Five-Year Old

Daddy, look. A dead squirrel.

That squirrel’s not dead.

He’s not?

No.

Then why is he laying in the road like that?

He’s taking a nap. On the road. Because it’s warm. That’s why I tell you not to play in the street.

Why?

Because the street is so warm. It soaks up the sun’s rays and becomes as enticing as a feather bed or a grandma’s lap for taking a nap in. And that’s dangerous.

Because of cars?

Because of cars.

Are you sure maybe this squirrel wasn’t taking a nap but then got hit by a car and killed?

He’s napping. A short squirrel nap wherein he’s dreaming of fields where everywhere he digs there are acorns made of gold. Let’s not disturb him, shall we?

Why is his bottom half missing, then, if he’s napping?

His bottom half probably went to go grab a sandwich or maybe a root beer. And didn’t want to wake up the squirrel’s top half, is probably what it is.

Could a squirrel eat an acorn made out of gold?

In his dreams, he could. And he would poop out diamonds the size of walnuts.

Wouldn’t that hurt?

Of course not. Not in his dreams. In real life, though, sure. In real life, it would probably hurt worse than getting hit by a car.

What would a squirrel do with diamonds? Even in a dream?

He would become king of the squirrels. He would live in a tree the size of the world. And he would never die or get chased by cats.

I want to be a dream squirrel, daddy.

Don’t let you mom hear you say that, okay? She just wouldn’t know how to take it.