Her: Mummy, Molly Malone died and her “fantôme†pushed her wheelbarrow.
Me: Yes.
Her: That’s unusual for fishmongers, isn’t it?
Me: Yes.
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Her:Â Mummy there were two dead flies in the hall where my course is.
Me: Yes.
Her: Like Snow White.
Me: I suppose.
Her: But, if the fly prince came, they wouldn’t be dead anymore.
Already a philosopher!
Fab …
you need to buy her a hamster, one with a congenital heart condition, to teach her the reality of death.
When my hamster died, I took the carcass to primary school to show my friends what a dead hamster looked like and we buried it on the way home. I believe I did a great service, to teach my chums what death really is.
BroLo, pog, ta. UC, step away from the hamster slowly with your hands in the air..