Before heading out to meet a friend for dinner, I prepared a simple meal of chicken nuggets, steamed broccoli, and apple slices for my kids. I was grateful for my partner managing the evening solo, so I didn’t want to introduce any new foods that might lead to meltdowns before bedtime. As I rushed to give my 4-year-old son and 20-month-old daughter a kiss goodbye, I caught a snippet of my son’s comment about chickens, but didn’t fully grasp it. I reminded him to be good and help his sister, then dashed out.
Once I settled at the restaurant, a text message popped up on my phone.
“Just a heads up. Our son has learned that people die. He’s not handling it well.”
Our little guy is sensitive—like, can’t-listen-to-sad-songs-without-tears sensitive—so I braced myself for what I knew would be a challenging evening. I trusted my partner to navigate this unexpected situation alone while I enjoyed my dinner.
When I returned home, the kids were already asleep. My partner filled me in on what had transpired that night.
That comment I missed earlier? It was about the chicken nuggets and their connection to real chickens. We generally strive to be honest with our children, so my partner explained that yes, those nuggets came from actual chickens. We’d had this conversation before, where our son would struggle to connect the dots between the meat on his plate and the animals they came from. Usually, he’d move on to more pressing matters, like dessert or his day at school.
But this time, something registered. “But the chicken nuggets don’t have feathers,” he said.
“Well, the feathers are removed before cooking,” my partner explained.
Our son giggled. “So the chicken is naked when you cook it? Won’t it be cold?”
“The chicken doesn’t feel cold because it’s killed before the farmer takes off the feathers,” my partner clarified.
And just like that, the conversation shifted.
“Do all chickens get killed?” he asked. My partner explained that while some are killed, others simply die, but ultimately, all animals do die.
“Do all animals die?”
“Yes, all animals eventually die.”
Then came the gut-wrenching question, “Will my pets die?”
We have two cats and a dog, and though our son hadn’t shown much interest in them before, they had been part of our family longer than he had been alive.
“Yes, one day our pets will die.”
It’s hard to imagine anything sadder than a 4-year-old sobbing over the thought of losing his furry friends. My partner tried to comfort him, but it was clear this was a tough pill to swallow.
“Do people die too?”
Yes, people die.
This was a concept we thought he was too young to face, and it broke my heart to see him grapple with such heavy thoughts at just 4 years old—all because of chicken nuggets.
My partner continued to share the conversation, both of us feeling the weight of our son’s questions. He asked if we would die, and my partner reassured him that it wouldn’t be for a long time. Our son cried, expressing he didn’t want us to “leave.” I halted my partner mid-story.
“Did he ask what happens after we die?”
No, thank goodness, as we had no clue what to say.
Being atheists, we’re raising our children in a secular manner. We believe death signals the end of existence—no afterlife, no heaven, and certainly no haunting. While this notion can be daunting, it’s something we aren’t prepared to explain to our young son just yet.
The next morning, I braced for tears or anxiety, but instead, he woke up cheerful. When I asked how he felt about last night’s talk, he responded, “He told me animals die and people die.” His tone was calm, almost resigned.
“Do you have any questions about that?”
“Do we have a video of the chicken dying?”
As unexpected as the previous night’s revelations were, this new inquiry threw me for a loop. My mind raced with images of gruesome factory farm footage. I feared he might declare himself a vegetarian and then refuse to eat anything green.
“No, we don’t have any videos of the chicken dying,” I replied.
“Can we buy the DVD?”
Just like that, I was reminded that he’s still 4—a child who can shift from deep philosophical thoughts to wanting to watch a movie on a dime. The worry over his ability to process our mortality was replaced with a flicker of hope that perhaps he would become a compassionate vegan rather than a serial killer.
In the end, this experience has shown us that parenting often leads to unexpected lessons, and sometimes, the most profound conversations arise in the simplest of moments. If you’re navigating the complexities of parenting and looking for more guidance, check out our post on home insemination kits for insightful tips.
Summary: A mother recounts how her sensitive 4-year-old discovered the reality of death through a conversation about chicken nuggets. As they navigate this delicate subject, they find themselves grappling with difficult questions about mortality while also seeking ways to explain it in a comforting manner.
Keyphrase: Understanding Death with Children
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