The kid's been on a kick about dying [or as she puts it, "getting dead"] lately.
It started with balloons and flowers, then animals, roadkill, the disappearing creatures at the National Zoo [old people, then wanting to know why people die. She'd overhear us talking about the war--wars, really--and want into the conversation.
We try to explain wars, and battles, and accidents, and sickness and ageing. But I notice we haven't mentioned murder or killing. I say notice because my wife and I take turns with our explanations, deferring, trying to sense how far each of us is comfortable taking the conversation. Because obviously, we hadn't anticipated this coming up, not yet, even though trying to figure out how the world works and where she fits in it is the kid's major occupation.
I'm reminded of these conversations by Eric Meyer's account of his 3-year-old daughter's questions about being born and growing up and dying. Though some of his answers differ from our religiously inflected ones, his experience feels very similar.