As I prepared to meet my friend for dinner, I quickly made a meal of chicken nuggets, steamed broccoli, and apple slices for my kids. I appreciated my partner, Mike, for managing the evening solo and aimed to avoid any new food surprises that might lead to bedtime meltdowns. As I rushed to kiss my 4-year-old son, Leo, and my 20-month-old daughter, Ava, on my way out, Leo mentioned something about chickens, but I didn’t catch it. I encouraged him to behave for Mike and to help his sister, then I left.
When I settled at the restaurant, a text from Mike popped up: “Just a heads up, Leo now knows that people die. He’s really upset.”
Leo is quite sensitive—he can tear up at a sad song on the radio. So, I knew we were in for a tough conversation. I trusted Mike to handle it and enjoyed my dinner.
Later that night, when I got home, the kids were already asleep. Mike and I settled down, and he recounted the evening’s events. It turned out that the comment I missed earlier was about the chicken nuggets and their connection to real chickens. In our effort to be honest with our kids, Mike explained that, yes, they were indeed eating real chickens. We had previously discussed this with Leo, but this time, it seemed to resonate differently.
“But the chicken nuggets don’t have feathers,” Leo had pointed out. Mike explained that the feathers are removed before cooking. Leo then laughed and asked, “So the chicken is naked when you cook it? Won’t it be cold?”
Mike responded, “The chicken doesn’t feel cold because it is killed before the farmer takes its feathers off.”
From there, the questions escalated. Leo inquired if all chickens are killed, and Mike explained that while some are killed, others die naturally, but all eventually do die.
“Do all animals die?” Leo asked. When Mike confirmed that they do, Leo’s tone shifted. “Will my pets die?”
That was a punch to the gut. We have two cats and a dog, pets Leo has known his whole life. “Yes, one day our pets will die,” Mike said. It broke my heart to think of Leo crying over the idea of losing his furry friends.
Then came the question we hadn’t prepared for: “Do people die too?”
“Yes, people die,” Mike replied. This was a concept Leo hadn’t encountered yet, and we weren’t ready to address it. As Mike recounted the conversation, I felt tears welling up—not just because of the sadness of mortality, but because I realized this was a significant moment of lost childhood innocence for Leo, all prompted by chicken nuggets.
Mike told me that Leo asked if we were going to die, and he reassured him that it wouldn’t be for a long time. Leo then cried, saying he didn’t want us to “leave.”
I interrupted Mike, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over me. “Did he ask what happens when we die?” Thankfully, he hadn’t, and I felt a sense of relief wash over me.
As atheists raising our kids without religious beliefs, we see death as the end of the line—no afterlife, no reincarnation, just nothing. While this is a perspective we hold, it’s not something we were ready to share with Leo yet.
The next morning, I was bracing for more questions. I reached out to a friend for guidance. She shared that when her daughter struggled with the death of her grandmother, her husband told her that when we die, we become stars. This comforting notion allowed her to feel connected and provided a gentle way to cope with loss.
The following morning, Leo woke up cheerful, and I asked him how he felt after his conversation with Mike. “He told me animals die and people die,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Do you have any questions about that?” I inquired.
“Do we have a video of the chicken dying?” he asked, shifting from somber to curious. My mind raced to graphic images of factory farming—definitely not what I wanted him to see! “No, we don’t have any videos of that,” I replied.
“Can we buy the DVD?”
In that moment, I realized I was dealing with a 4-year-old whose thoughts could shift in an instant. My worries about his understanding of mortality faded, replaced by hope he would embrace a compassionate lifestyle rather than one of violence.
Conclusion
In summary, this experience with Leo brought to light the complexities of discussing death with young children. It highlighted the importance of finding a balance between honesty and age-appropriate comfort in these conversations. Resources like Make a Mom and Women’s Health can be invaluable for parents navigating discussions about life and loss, while Intracervical Insemination offers insights into meatless meals that could tie into these sensitive topics.