Aaron. "If I die, how old will you be?"
And then, while I was thinking furiously, trying to form a coherent answer, he asked, "If you die, how old will I be?"
*mommy's mouth hangs open for a bit*
*she finally pulls it together*
Me. "Oh, Aaron, don't worry about it. We won't die til we're really, really old."
Aaron. "But you are really old."
Me. Thanks, kid.
Aaron. "You mean old like Grandma & Grandpa? That old? When are they going to die?"
Me. Erm. "Not for a long time, Aaron."
Aaron. "How old will they be when I die?"
Me. (long pause) Do I say that I'm almost certain that they'll die first, or do I get myself out of this? Who wants ice cream?
Ethan & Aaron. I do!
Crisis averted yet again by dairy confections with whipped cream and cherries! What will I do when I can't distract them with something sweet and actually have to answer their questions? Crap. This is the stuff they don't tell you about being a parent.