Before heading out for dinner with a friend, I quickly prepared a simple meal of chicken nuggets, broccoli, and apple slices for my kids. I appreciated my husband’s help at home and wanted to avoid any mealtime meltdowns. As I rushed to give my 4-year-old son and 20-month-old daughter a kiss goodbye, I caught my son mumbling something about chickens, but didn’t quite grasp it. I reminded him to be good for his dad and dashed out the door.
When I settled at the restaurant, a text popped up on my phone. “Just a heads up—our son has learned that people die, and he’s not taking it well.”
My son is sensitive, the type who can’t even listen to soft acoustic songs without tearing up, so I knew this conversation would be tough. I trusted my husband to manage the situation while I enjoyed my time out.
When I got home, the kids were already tucked in bed. My husband filled me in on the evening’s events. That comment I missed earlier? It was about the chicken nuggets and their connection to real chickens. We generally try to be straightforward with our children, so my husband had explained that yes, the nuggets were made from real chickens. This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, but something shifted in our son’s understanding this time.
“But the chicken nuggets don’t have feathers,” he observed.
“Well, the feathers are taken off before we cook it,” my husband replied.
Our son chuckled, “So the chicken is naked when you cook it? Won’t it be cold?”
“The chicken doesn’t feel cold because it is killed before the farmer removes its feathers,” came the reply.
And that was the moment it all clicked for him. “Do all chickens get killed?” he asked. My husband explained that some get killed, some just die, but eventually, all living beings face death.
“Do all animals die?” he inquired. Yes, every animal eventually dies.
Then came the gut-wrenching question: “Will my pets die?”
We have two cats and a dog, and while my son isn’t particularly interested in them, they’ve been part of our family longer than he has. “Yes, one day, our pets will die,” my husband said.
I can’t think of many things sadder than seeing a 4-year-old cry over the thought of losing his beloved pets. My husband tried to console him, but it was a heavy topic.
“Do people die too?” Yes, people die. This was a concept that had never crossed his mind before, and we as parents hadn’t anticipated having to explain it at such a young age. Tears filled my eyes as my husband recounted the story—this was the first moment our son lost a piece of his childhood innocence, all sparked by chicken nuggets.
My husband continued to share how our son asked if we would die, to which he reassured him, “Not for a very long time.” But our son insisted he didn’t want us to “leave.” At that moment, I interrupted my husband. “Did he ask what happens after we die?” I was relieved when my husband said no.
As atheists raising our kids secularly, we believe that death is the end, and we didn’t want to burden our son with that reality just yet.
I began to worry about what I would say if he brought it up again in the morning. Reaching out to friends for advice, one mom shared a comforting story about how her daughter coped with her grandmother’s passing. She told her that when we die, we become stars. When her daughter missed her great-grandmother, she could pick out a star and find her. It was a beautiful way to handle a difficult topic, offering a sense of comfort without the need for religious beliefs. It also resonated with one of my favorite quotes from Carl Sagan: “We are made of starstuff.”
The next morning, there were no tears. My son woke up cheerful. When I asked how he felt about the previous night’s talk, he calmly stated, “He told me animals die and people die.”
“Do you have any questions about that?” I probed.
“Do we have a video of the chicken dying?” he asked.
As unexpected as last night’s discussion had been, this question left me momentarily dumbfounded. My mind raced with images of graphic factory farm videos, and I braced myself for the potential fallout. “No, we don’t have any videos of that,” I replied.
“Can we buy the DVD?”
And just like that, my worries about his understanding of mortality shifted to a more childlike curiosity. Gone was the concern about his ability to cope with the concept of death. Now, I just hoped he would choose to become a vegan and not a serial killer.
If you’re navigating similar conversations with your little ones, you might find this resource on artificial insemination helpful. You can also check out this post for more insights. Additionally, March of Dimes offers excellent guidance on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, introducing the concepts of life and death to young children can be challenging, but with sensitivity and creativity, it’s possible to provide comfort and understanding. As parents, we must navigate these difficult discussions while preserving our children’s innocence for as long as possible.