We've spoken pretty honestly around the Edwards family compound about the coronavirus. AH is keeping a journal, because of course she is going to sell it one day when she is famous (she said that). She showed me (ONLY ONE) entry... and it is on coronavirus. She had the concept of a wet market. Of a bat. And I'm not sure I told her any of that.
She and her buddy T have called this time the coronacation.
But I appreciate the truth.
Our kids know that this rarely affects young kids severely. They are kamikaze scootering down the sidewalk and hoping the neighbors move six feet to the right or left.
They are having lunch (THAT THEY MADE YES I AM THE BEST PARENT) every day in the backyard on a picnic blanket.
They are reliably saying Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening to all that pass by.
They are mourning not being able to escape to the college campus nearby to run and roll and scoot and bike, and understand that right now we just have to make our tiny rowhouse yard work for us.
They are even loving all the no devices restrictions being lifted, and I think Robbie is about to graduate with a PhD from Khan Academy.
Ya'll. They are being troopers.
But I appreciate the truth.
I had to fact check if the tooth fairy was an essential worker (turns out she is and thank goodness we had a stash of dollar coins, but damn if she didn't forget to remove the tooth once again and Shawn still won't let me be a SantaToothFairyEasterBunnyTruther).
Then last week one of Robbie's friends died, along with his Mom, in a tragic accident.
We are parenting in tender times my friends.
It is making me, the Santa truther, think deeply about how we talk to our kids about life, the world, bad things, good people, and tragedy.
But ya'll, I appreciate the truth.
And it turns out he does too.
We spent about 36 hours researching how/what/why/when to say. And I had in the back of my mind, Robbie is a processor, we'll need to deliver the news and just know that he won't react right away.
You guys, Robbie appreciates the truth.
I hope we did this right. Because we told him the truth. And he emoted, deeply. For hours.
"WHAT A TRAGEDY MAMA"
He's needed more check ins and we are being tender with his soul.
He wanted to read the news articles.
He said "He must have been so scared, Mama", and I'm confirm to you, that is my deepest truth. About how terrifying that must have been.
Then he moved into action. "What can we do? How can we honor him? How can we remember him from soccer". He came up with great ideas.
Ya'll. My non-feeler, non-emoting kid needed the truth.
I wasn't sure he did.
But the real truth? Everything is awful about telling kids the truth about bad things. There's no right time, way, mode or medium. And I'll worry for days and weeks and months and years to come if this is one of those life changing kid memories.Then a couple days ago, he asked for a Zoom with his soccer team so they could talk together. Today they did. Being eight, they also talked about poops and farts and hating homework and missing soccer... and about being a soccer family.
So you mix coronavirus and tragedy, throw in some massive working parent stress, and we'll hope that once again, didn't damage our children forever.
Until that eight year old who seems so old and wise, and yet so tiny and dimpled and vulnerable whispers to you when he goes to bed "Thank you for telling me the truth."
We will battle on, and face each day and new truth as they happen. And we will do the best we can.
And you will too.
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