From the mouth of babes

My three year old and five year old have remained keenly aware that we lost a baby in October.   He is buried in the back yard.   Sigh.   They talk about him all the time which is actually a good thing.   Stefan, five, has been talking with me more than usual about it.   He has said any number of the following many times.  "I miss the baby.   I wish the baby hadn't died.   Will I be able to play with the baby someday?   I can't wait till I get to play with the baby.  Maybe you can have another baby mommy and then I will have another baby to play with.  Why did the baby die."   Deep sigh.   Like I said, I am not upset he asks these things.   I appreciate his understanding that the baby was real and is waiting for him in heaven.   It is so very sweet.   The older children are aware but since they are not so small they don't talk about it very much.   I will not squelch Stefan's questions and conversation.   He obviously needs to talk about it.   Ingrid just talks about the baby when she is outside and visits where the baby is buried.   The older kids do look a bit freaked out when he does this as I think they must think I can't handle it.   It happened.   It's real.   Why not talk about it.   It is okay.   It is perhaps good for me to to have my little confidant to talk to when it comes up.   God bless his small self.   I love my kids.   The end.