Roadkill

It's a little disconcerting to me that my kids are essentially "city kids." And so miss out on the dubious educational experience of roadkill that most country kids like myself find commonplace.

Well, this week while walking around our neighborhood, the kids found a mangled dead bird. And they were SO fascinated. It's curious to me how kids don't shrink from the word dead, because they don't have any emotional association with it yet. They just say over and over "It's dead! Look! A dead bird!" So they poked that bird with sticks, bounced rocks off of it, and asked if I could make it fly again. Finally I herded them along, feeling the little birdie should be left in peace, and slightly uncomfortable with their morbid fascination.

Then, roadkill visited our yard, having been dragged into the yard by some unknown predator. The kids came running inside, yelling excitedly that there was a dead possum in the yard. Though, how they recognized *what* it was, I have no idea. It was only a furry, headless torso. And so the stick-poking, dead conversation began again. I let them examine it, as long as they didn't touch it, and listened to their chatter. The girls chattered & poked and finally decided on a solution to the presence of a dead possum torso.

"Mommy, someone took this possum's head, can you find it and put it back on?"

See? We're all just puzzle parts in their minds... or Mr. Potato head...