When I was three, I was out being walked by my mom, and we saw a dead bird.
“Mommy, why is the bird laying there?”
“Well, sweetie, it’s dead.”
“What’s that?”
“It got old, or it got very sick, and its body stopped working, and so the bird died.”
“Oh.”
[Mom worries about truth, death, and toddler tears.]
…
“Can I touch it?”
“Use a stick, dear, and you have to wash your hands with soap when we get home.”
This is why I’m a scientist: I want to poke things. I come by it naturally!
When I saw a dead bird as a little girl, I wanted to preside at its funeral. I guess we do know what we want to do at an early age. :-)
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely story!
ReplyDeleteNice. I was the same way, except that I wanted to take it home and fix it. So now I'm in vet school. It all works out in the end.
ReplyDeleteI just stumbled onto your blog today. I'm a science teacher. I liked poking things as a kid, too. I buried a dead bird once and then dug it back up to find out what happens when we die. I've had no illusions since then.
ReplyDelete