Dead Gerbils Are No Fun
So it’s done, I told the wee child of the demise of her gerbil. After a brief discussion with K I decided to go with the cold hard truth as he was unwilling to come up with a good lie. Not that really mattered, the whole thing went like this:
Me: Cabbage Patch, I have something to tell you.
Me: Look in the gerbil cage and tell me what’s missing.
Her: The food?
Her: *looking more closely* The water?
Me: No. *rolling eyes and cursing her father for her getting his observation skills*
Her: Da wheel?
Me: No, no, no. That’s all in there. Your gerbil. He’s dead.
Her: *looking at me with surprise* He’s dead.
Me: Yeah honey. Spike is dead. *pulls her into a hug*
Her: *muffled sniffles*
Me: It’s okay honey. *getting teary eyed*
Her: *looking up at me* Can I see him?
Me: Umm… no, it’s gross.
Her and her sister: I wanna see. It won’t be gross.
Me: NO. It’s GROSS.
Her: Can I get a new gerbil?
Me: Um… yeah, I guess.
Her: Okay, can I play outside now?
And that was the end of that. K buried the corpse in a small soap box under a tree by the creek per her instructions (actually she wanted it buried much closer to home but that just seemed a bit to creepy for me.