I think she understands too much

This morning on the way to daycare I was singing the song, "Everybody Loves Saturday Night." It's one I remembered from summer camp and was a complete mystery to Drew, who claimed he had no idea what I was talking about. I thought he went to day camp, but maybe he was in a tent making lanyards when the rest of the kids were singing songs.

Anyway, "Everybody Loves Saturday Night" can be sung in multiple languages. I had gotten through the Nigerian and Italian translations and had started in on Yiddish when we pulled into daycare.

"Grandma and Grandpa speak Yiddish, sweetie," I told Rachel. "They never taught Mommy how to speak it, and they spoke it around me when they didn't want me to understand what they were saying. It was really annoying because I kept thinking, 'what is the point?'"

"You were frustrated, Mommy?" Rachel asked.

"Yes, honey," I laughed. "I was frustrated."

***

Tonight we sort of had a conversation about death. I was telling her that someday Grandma and Grandpa will die, and Mommy and Daddy will, too. And then I started to get a little weepy, because I can't stand the thought of Mom and Dad dying. And I can't stand the thought that Rachel will feel the same way about us someday. I hate for her to have to go through that.

"Daddy come back?" she said.
"Yes, Daddy will come back," I said.
"Daddy not die?"
"No, not for a long time," I said. (I was careful not to say "no, not ever," because I don't want to lie to her. I'd rather just fudge the truth until she's old enough to understand that any of us can go at any moment).
"Grandma die?" she said, a worried look on her face.
"Yes, Grandma will die someday," I said. "But not now."
That worried look stayed for a while until I started tickling her and kissing her at the same time (two things she professes to hate, but I never listen) and she got busy trying to stop me.