My 5 year old has always tried to delay bedtime. You know, one more story, one more sip of water-the usual kid stuff. But this last year, she is giving me a real run for my money. Her questions are becoming complex as she deals with death, my brother’s, a squirrel’s, a fly’s.
Where do we go when we die? she asks. This, I sidestep, with a generic description of heaven.
Will we come back after we die? she asks. I think so, I say. Fighting the urge to say she must be a good girl to come back as something fantastic and not a lower tier being.
Last night, she asks,
“Are we puppets that someone makes move?”
My little philosopher.
I thought I was clear of the hard-hitting questions for a while! I mumbled something about a greater power and how we have our own minds that we use to the best of our ability. But, geez, I’m still trying to figure it all out.
I’m pretty sure I am going to have a hard time keeping up with Sophia. Even her name means “wisdom.”
In what could only be called a coincidence, or fate, while writing this post and listening to Pandora’s Blackilicious station, this song titled “Puppets” by Atmosphere came on:
Goosebumps! The lyrics echo the subject matter. I can’t tell you how many times those little coincidences have happened lately. Algorithm? God? Maybe one in the same.