When will you die, Daddy?

Like any healthy 4-year-old, Jonathan is figuring out the world around him. Sometimes his conclusions can be quite amusing. This morning the conversation went something like this:

JB: When am I going to die, Daddy?

Me: Not until you’re very, very, very, very, very, very old. So, it isn’t something you have to worry about at the moment.

JB: When we die, we’ll all go to heavan to see Grandad, won’t we?

Me: Yes, that’s right.

JB: When will you die, Daddy?

Me: Not until I’m very, very, very, very, very, very old.

JB: That will be soon, then, won’t it?

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Fish!

JB is my 4-year old.

ME: I spy with my little eye, something beginning with “f”.

JB: Fish!

ME: Fish does begin with “f”, but that isn’t it.

JB: Er…

ME: Something else beginning with “f”.

JB: Fish!

ME: No, it’s not fish, JB. What else can you see that begins with “f”?

JB: Fish!

ME: You’ve already said that!

JB: No, no, no, no, no Daddy! This is a different kind of fish. The other fish was the kind you get in the sea. This is fish for eating, Daddy.