An 8-y-o’s worst nightmare?

N: T put his finger on his penis and then touched me!  Now I have penis germs on my wrist!

T, of course, smiled gleefully.  He reminds me far too much of my brother, who used to hide things in his pants because then he knew that I wouldn’t want to touch them ever again.

They’re playing in the other room, and all I can hear is them chanting “I want to be evil!  I want to be evil!”  Would it be wrong of me to tell them they already are?

Death and the five-year-old…

So T’s been thinking a lot about death lately, asking questions about why people and animals have to die, planning to plant a “memorial tree” for Grandpa Joe’s dog who died while we were visiting, etc.  A couple of days ago he said that he wants me to die in a million zillion years, and that he wants to be holding my hand when I do.

How sweet — and pathetic — is that?