We’re walking to school and there’s a squished squirrel on the street.
Carter tells me she feels sad, seeing the big dead raccoon.
“I’ve never seen a raccoon so dead before,” she says.
I agree, honestly, that I’ve never seen a raccoon so dead before (or so squirrel-like). I comment that sometimes I wish we didn’t drive at all, when it kills little animals.
“Oh, Mom, but that’s how life goes,” Carter muses, “You live, then you die. Everyone dies. People die, squirrels die, dogs die, raccoons die,”
As I’m taking it all in she adds,
“But not bikes. Bikes don’t die.”
