Lizzie and the Mouse
I found this post and meant to post it before, but here it is now. Keep in mind, I wrote this in 2009.
We all know the day will come, we just hope it isn't when our children are seven years old. They begin to realize that death is a part of life and have to face it head on.
Today was that day for Elizabeth. Of course, it was going to come, she's been obsessing about people dying and going to live with Jesus for months now. I think partly because she began to ask about Bud being my daddy, so I explained to her that when I was little that my daddy had died and gone to go live in Heaven with Jesus. But today was her day to put the two together. Thankfully, it wasn't a person, it was a mouse.
We have an old house (it was built in 1911) and so mice often come and go and we use poison, or traps, or whatever and get rid of them as we discover we have them. I am sad to say so far we've caught nine in the traps Bud purchased for us. And I sadly think there may be more. So I didn't think much of it when Lizzie became excited and told me about the dead mice she found in the traps. She didn't seem to put two and two together, so I wasn't prepared for what happened this evening. . .
Elizabeth befriended one of the mice! Maybe I was off because it was Father's Day, and I don't like it when Chris isn't here since it's one more reminder about Dad and that my husband isn't home with us. Or maybe it was because Beka was up and down all night last night - yeah, that's it. It was fatigue! So I didn't think a lot of it when she kept insisting she was talking to one of the mice and he was looking at her . . .until I heard her sobbing in the kitchen.
I'd put Beka to bed and was watching a movie on instant play from Netflix when I heard what sounded like crying. So I pause the movie and sure enough I hear her crying. So I get up and go into the kitchen where I find Elizabeth curled up with her knees in her chest sobbing.
"Lizzie, what's wrong?"
"He was my friend, my mousy friend and he's dead. Please mousy speak to me." Sniffle, sniffle.
So I am standing there trying to figure out if I can get her out of the kitchen so I can dispose of it, and of course, I can't because that would make life way to simple. So I throw out the mouse w/the trap because it was too gross to keep and she's watching me throw out her "friend" the mouse.
Sniffle, sniffle. "Why did he die Mommy? He was my friend, I miss him."
I finally was able to get her to the couch, but if you know Elizabeth then you understand she has echolalia with her autism and so she kept repeating.
"He was my mousy friend." Sniffle, sniffle.
"Please speak to me." Sniffle, sniffle.
Now at this point I am torn between tears and mirth. Talk about learning well from her older sister, Sarah. Ladies and Gentlemen, there is a new drama queen in town, and her name is Elizabeth! So I explained it to her as best I could.
"Honey, it's okay. Mousy is with Jesus now and he's very happy."
"How do you know?"
"Well cat's don't eat mice in Heaven." Sniffle, sniffle and she looks at me with questions.
"Then what do cats eat in Heaven." Think fast, Maureen, so you don't give her more ammo to give to her therapist when she grows up.
"They eat cat food." I think I dodged that bullet . . .at least I hope I did for now.
So we called Grandma Mary and she told her about it and then seemed to forget as we watched, High School Musical 3. I think I enjoy it as much as she does. Although, she keeps coming down and telling me she is having dreams. . .
But that's another story for another blog.