How do you talk to a two year old about death? Well, this is how I did it...and why I even came about it. I guess I never used the word death or dying because it seemed too scary - to me, that is - he doesn't associate sadness, tragedy or any sort of heaviness with those words yet...plus I didn't want to put too much fear in him because he is such a fearless explorer most of the time - and I don't want to crush that.
There have been three instances when the Bear has gotten to a street and just about walked into it without looking. The first time we were coming out of a store along the main drag of our town. He walked across the parking lot, I had my eye on him. When he approached the sidewalk I shouted to him to come back as I moved toward him. He usually listens (this is changing). On the other side of the sidewalk was the street. He kept walking. I yelled, "Stanley, get back here, don't go into the street!" Nothing. I yelled louder, "Watch out for cars!" (This usually stops him...not this time.) As he is still not listening and about to step foot in the street I am sprinting towards him as I let out a blood curdling, "NOOOOO!" I nab him, luckily no cars were coming. Heart beating fast I explain to him about the dangers of the road and how cars wiz on by without looking for people entering their path.
I will say that I place a lot of fault upon my shoulders in that moment. I was way too nonchalant, letting him explore on his own. It's no mystery that that's how I try to parent - I try not to hover or barge in unless he really needs me. He is growing fast, not only physically but mentally. He tests me more often (he's two!) He thinks it is funny. He used to stop when I would say his name but not so much anymore. I need to change my tactics.
In the second instance, we were walking to the park near our house. He was pushing his little umbrella stroller while I followed behind him about 4 steps. When we got to the road I assumed he was going to stop because he usually does but he kept going. Thankfully, before he, himself stepped into the street a passing car had stopped and HONKED. That stopped Stanley in his tracks. Again, I firmly explained to him that he needs to stop and look both ways for cars and hold my hand while crossing the street.
The third and scariest moment (or at least the most emotional for me) was when we were playing out front and he was shoeless. He said to me, "Mama, park?" I told him we could go but that he would have to put shoes on first. Then he looked at me and turned around and started running to the park. I yelled, "Stanley! You need to put your shoes on first." He kept running. I shouted, "Stanley! Listen to me!" Nothing. So I bolted after him yelling for him to stop. Nothing. He's fast too. I let out another blood curdling, "NOOOO!" It's the most terrible sounding yell ever. It's part cry, part yell, part major panic. By this time Mike is out of the house because of my screams. Thankfully Stanley stopped at the intersection without going into it but I was too far away to stop him if he ran into the road, so thankfully he stopped. THANK GOODNESS HE STOPPED. Mike got to him before me and picked him up and walked home. I started to cry and Stanley saw me doing so. Mike put him in his crib for 3 minutes. I told Mike that I was at a loss and that I felt the only way for him to learn was to actually get hit by a car. Terrible, I know. I was a mess and come up with the worst ideas when I'm emotional. Thank goodness for rock solid Papa Bear. When the three minutes were up I said to Stan B, "Do you understand why we wanted you to think about what happened? You have to listen to me and your Papa. You have to hold someone's hand when you cross the street. About 15 minutes later we had our shoes on and were ready to go to the park. I repeated again, "We don't run into the street without stopping, looking both ways and holding someone's hand because you could...." And I started crying again and looked up at Mike and said, "How do you even explain this?!" Mike finished my sentence for me and said, "You could get an Owie." I pulled myself together and I said, "A car could hit you and you would get a very big Owie...and Mama and Papa would be very sad."
The next day when we went to the park. Stan B walked with me. When we got near the road, he stopped, squatted, put his arms out and swished them back and forth (as if he were a first base ump signaling that the runner was safe) and said, "Cars. Stop. Walk. Cars." I said, "Yes, let's hold hands and look both ways." He did it. And we crossed without yelling or crying or dying.
Wow!! That was emotional for me!!!
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