Nearly seven years ago, when the kid was three and fascinated with death, and life, and how they were connected, I linked to Eric Meyer's post about having a similar conversation with his daughter. It starts out:
"Daddy, when will my baby brother or sister get here?"Well that tiny little baby was born. And now she's five. And her name is Rebecca. And, as Eric writes with such devastating clarity, she has had a rapid return of her brain cancer. And it really looks like she will die before she's all done growing up, not after. And though we only know people in common, my heart breaks completely for Eric and his family.
"Soon, sweetie. We don't know exactly when."
"Tomorrow?"
"No, probably not."
"The tomorrow after tomorrow?"
"Probably not."
"But when my baby brother or sister comes, they will be a baby."
"Yep. A tiny little baby."
On Writing; The Truth [meyerweb.com via waxy]
Previously: Growing Up
