We had had the usual battle to get little bear into bed, and I had just finished singing Molly Malone in jig time when little bear looked at me and asked, 'What's dead?'
Where would you start?
So I said that sometimes people were poorly or hurt and they couldn't keep living so they went to heaven. We can't see them anymore but they can see us (theologically unsound) and that they still loved those who left behind. They were safe in heaven which was a lovely place where they could be happy.
He seemed happy enough. OH can handle the birds and the bees discussion.
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