Before heading out for dinner with a friend, I whipped up a simple meal of chicken nuggets, broccoli, and apple slices for my kids. I appreciated my partner, Mark, for taking care of the little ones that evening and wanted to avoid any food surprises that might lead to chaos at bedtime. As I rushed to kiss my 4-year-old son, Leo, and my 20-month-old daughter, Mia, on my way out, Leo mentioned something about chickens that I didn’t quite understand. I told him to be good for Mark and to help his sister, then I left.
While waiting for my friend to arrive, I noticed a text from Mark: “Heads up. Leo now knows that people die. He’s pretty upset.”
Leo is an incredibly sensitive child—his feelings can be easily stirred, even by the softest songs. So, I knew this wouldn’t be an easy situation. I trusted Mark to manage this new development on his own and focused on enjoying my evening.
When I returned home, the kids were already in bed. Mark filled me in on their conversation. That comment I missed earlier? It was about the chicken nuggets and whether they were real chickens. We usually try to be honest with our kids, so Mark explained that yes, they were indeed real chickens. This wasn’t the first time we had this discussion, but for some reason, it clicked with Leo this time.
“But the chicken nuggets don’t have feathers,” he pointed out.
Mark explained, “The feathers are taken off before we cook them.” Leo giggled, “So the chicken is naked when you cook it? Is it cold?”
Mark responded, “The chicken doesn’t feel cold because it is killed before the farmer removes its feathers.” And that was the moment it all unraveled.
Leo asked if all chickens are killed, and Mark explained that yes, some are killed while others just die eventually. “Do all animals die?” Leo inquired. Mark confirmed this, and then came the gut-punch question: “Will my pets die?”
Our family includes two cats and a dog, and although Leo usually doesn’t pay much attention to them, they’ve been around longer than he has. Mark answered with a heavy heart, “Yes, one day our pets will die.” Seeing a 4-year-old sob over the thought of losing his pets is tough to bear.
“Do people die too?” Leo asked, and again Mark had to confirm. This was a concept we hadn’t expected to discuss at such a young age. As Mark shared the story with me, tears filled my eyes—not just because mortality is a heavy topic, but because it marked the loss of some of Leo’s childhood innocence, and all over chicken nuggets.
Mark continued recounting the evening’s events, both of us feeling emotional as he told me Leo asked if we were going to die. Mark reassured him that it wouldn’t be for a very long time, but Leo cried, “I don’t want you to leave.”
I interrupted, “Did he ask what happens after we die?” Thankfully, he hadn’t, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
Mark and I are atheists, raising our children without religious beliefs. We think of death as the end of the road—no afterlife, no reincarnation, just nothingness. While this perspective is honest, it’s not something I wanted to share with Leo just yet.
Feeling anxious about how to handle the inevitable questions that would come, I reached out to a friend. She shared a comforting approach her husband took with their young daughter after her grandmother passed. He told her that when we die, we become stars. It was a beautiful metaphor that provided some comfort in facing loss and wasn’t tied to any specific belief system.
The next morning, I noticed a change in Leo. He woke up cheerful, and when I asked him how he felt, he calmly stated, “He told me animals die and people die.”
“Do you have any questions about that?” I asked.
“Do we have a video of the chicken dying?” he replied.
I was caught off guard. My mind raced to thoughts of graphic factory farm videos, and I had to quickly remind myself that he’s still just a 4-year-old. “No, we don’t have any videos of that,” I told him.
“Can we buy the DVD?” he asked innocently, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. Just like that, the heavy weight of existential dread lifted, replaced by a child’s curiosity. I felt a glimmer of hope that he might one day embrace a compassionate lifestyle, perhaps even consider going vegan, instead of being a serial killer.
For more on parenting and the journey of growing up, check out our other blog posts, including insights on fertility from Make a Mom, and excellent resources on pregnancy and home insemination at Science Daily.
In summary, navigating the topic of mortality with a young child can be challenging. Leo’s discovery of death, prompted by a simple meal, opened a complex conversation that highlighted the fragility of life. It’s a bittersweet moment in parenting, providing a chance to instill empathy and understanding in our children that can guide them through future experiences of loss.