HEAVEN AIN'T NO PLAYGROUND

I laid with my son tonight helping him drift off to sleep when suddenly he turned, tears in his eyes, and said, "I had a nightmare."

I spared him the literal translation of nightmare since he wasn't actually asleep and asked, "What was it about, baby?"

"I was dead," he cried.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry," I said as I proceeded to repeat our recent mantra assuring him that this past week had been hard for everyone, kids and adults alike. That I was sorry he had to experience this tragedy so young because it was not common. In fact, this was Mommy's first time having a young friend die and, everybody knows I'm ancient! Once again, I assured him that Mommy, Daddy, and his sister would be around until we were very old; until he had children and maybe even his children had children." (After our two dogs died within 9 months of each other, we used that last part to soothe his anxiety with positive results.)

My husband and I went out for a dinner with friends this past Monday. As the sitter helped my son to sleep, he told her he was having nightmares about dying. He was afraid that Mommy and Daddy wouldn't make it home and would she take care of him if they didn't. Upon hearing the sitter re-tell it, my heart ached to hug him and whisper in his ear that everything would be alright, whether he could hear me or not.

As I continued to soothe him earlier tonight, we talked about heaven; what it looked like, what our spirits looked like. His answers: a big cloud and a big cloud. I thought we were making headway toward sleep when,

"But Mommy," he cried all over again, tightening his face to hold back the tears he could barely get out the words, "there's nothing to do in heaven!"

I tenderly wiped his face with my sleeve while inside I chuckled. Ahhh, to be a child.