November 22, 2005

Gratuitous Domestic Posting (TM) - Loss of Innocence Division

The seven year old came home from school yesterday in a highly agitated state because one of her classmates had been spreading subversive rumors designed to rock the world of the lower elementary at St. Marie of the Blessed Educational Method.

"She said that it wasn't Santa who brought presents, but Mom and Dad. She also said that parents put money under your pillow instead of the Tooth Fairy!"

Well, I can usually dodge these issues. My favorite tactic for getting off the Santa Question is to turn the conversation towards what the true meaning of Christmas is supposed to be. As for the Tooth Fairy, the gel simply can't get herself to believe that I could slip my big 'ol arm under her pillow while she's asleep without her knowing about it. I just shrug and say, "Yet the money is there, isn't it?"

But yesterday, we reached uncharted waters. The next revelation was the bomb-shell.

"She said, she said.......Elvis died on the potty!"

At first, I was amazed that the gel had even heard the name before. When I asked if she knew who he was, she answered, "Yes, she said he was the king of rock and roll."

"Well, yes, that's right - he was a singer," I replied.

"DID he die on the potty?" she asked, wide-eyed. And it suddenly occurred to me that her concern didn't have anything to do with Elvis's life or the dignity (or lack thereof) with which he shuffled off this mortal coil. Rather, she was on the verge of thinking that the potty itself had been the cause of his death and, therefore, that She Could Be Next.

Now I recall that, in fact, the potty was at least a contributor to the King's demise. But the last thing I need is for a child to develope a Killer Potty Complex. When she gets older and starts reading Dave Barry, she can worry about spiders, snakes, alligators and other toilet-centric perils. But not here and not now. So I said, "Yes, but he didn't die from trying to go to the bathroom - he was very sick already and just happened to be there when the disease caught up with him."

This seemed to mollify her. Sure I lied. But sometimes rock n' roll ain't pretty.

Posted by Robert at November 22, 2005 09:09 AM | TrackBack

You could've gone the other route, and simply denied his death. Now you've opened the door.

Get ready to explain Jim Morrison and the tub to her. And the Mama Cass/sandwich thing might also be heading your way.

Posted by: The Colossus at November 22, 2005 11:02 AM

I'm with Colossus - you should have told her the truth: you just saw Elvis at the Stop 'n Save, and he's doing fine, though he has put on a few pounds.

Then again, you might have bought yourself an extra year free of anxiety when the kids hit high school if you had told her he drank likker at a party and it killed him. Immediately.

Posted by: tee bee at November 22, 2005 08:14 PM