The Groundhog Who Will Not Die

A few weeks ago, Alex and Sasha had a sleepover with Noz and E. While driving around town, they encountered a groundhog clinging to life after being hit by a car. Apparently, the scene was quite messy and dramatic. The Aunt and Uncle took advantage of the teachable moment to drive home the lesson to "hold hands on the street."

The next day, I got the skinny from the kids:

A: We saw AMIMAL!
S: GROUNDHOG! He was bleeding!
A: Bleeding. . .
S: Yeah . . .bleeding . . .
A: Noz got shovel
S: It's Ok! It's OK! E got a shovel
A: Tell amimals. . . Tell amimals. . .Tell amimals to hold hands.
S: Hold hands in the ROAD!
A: Groundhog no hold hands. His mommy sad.
S: Need to hold hands in the road. Mommy sad.
A: Groundhog bleeding. Mommy cry.

We've been having trouble with Alex darting away from us, so this lesson was quite helpful.

Since that fateful day, the kids have been repeating this scene OVER AND OVER. Everyday they regale me with the tragic tale of a careless groundhog who's mommy is now crying. We hear about this groundhog whenever we hold hands, see a road, scrape a knee (bleeding), eat our breakfast, it goes ON and ON.

Yesterday, Sasha asked me for the 12th time on the 1.5 mile journey between our house and Trader Joe's about the Groundhog.

S: Where is the groundhog?
A: He's bleeding. Sad . . .
S: Where is the groundhog, mommy?
Me: (impatient and tired) The groundhog is dead. He died. He's all gone.

silence

I glance into the rear-view mirror and see their little synapses firing a mile-a-minute trying to understand the existential question of life and death.

Just when I think I've finally put an end to this gruesome saga . . .

S: Groundhog dead
A: He DIED.
S: Dead! He Died!
A: His mommy sad.
S: It's Ok, It's OK, He DIED!!!!
A: All gone

(and on and on . . .)