This is what we talked about on the way to preschool this morning.
Evelyn: I love you, mommy.
Me: I love you, too.
Evelyn: I will love you when I'm dead.
Me (thinking): why are we talking about death?
Evelyn: When I die, and then you die and Andrew dies, we will be together.
Me (thinking): yes, but, again--why are we talking about death?
Evelyn: And when Daddy dies, he can be with us too!
I didn't know three-year-olds could be so morbid.
A few minutes later . . .
Evelyn: I wish I could be water.
Andrew: You don't want to be water. People might throw sticks on you.
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