When we were walking to the garage yesterday morning, I found Aiden's morning kill laying next to the sidewalk. Poor little bunny, just out for a morning hop, but hopped into the wrong yard. If I knew how to speak Rabbit, I would hang a warning sign for them. But I don't, so the rabbits enter our yard unaware they could be inches from their demise. It's not every day the ol' girl gets lucky, but when she has an extra spring in her step, the bunnies suffer.
Any way, I was fortunate enough that Alex didn't spot the bunny on the way to the car, but I knew coming home was going to be a different story. So I was really hoping Travis would make it home before us and deal with the scene of the murder. Alas, dear Budweiser once again would not let that happen, so I had to remove the bunny with Alex by my side firing away an endless string of questions. "Shahbel? Shahbel? Bunny? Bunny? What bunny?" I took the last question to mean, Why are you scooping this bunny into a shovel and why isn't the bunny hopping away like normal? I may not speak Rabbit, but I am getting damn good at Toddlerese.
I tried to gently answer, but all that came out was, "The bunny...well bud, the bunny...is dead." Smooth. He shockingly didn't understand and continued to ask about the bunny while following me, the dead bunny shovel wielding idiot, to the back of the garage to toss it over the fence. And I still couldn't come up with a better answer.
Shortly after, I was relaying this cute little anecdote to my neighbor and before I got to the part where I failed miserably to answer my son appropriately she said, "Ooooh...bunny is sleeping." Probably a more toddler-friendly answer. You would think I could have come up with that.
Well kiddo, sometimes reality sucks. And since your mom is not smart, you are going to learn that abruptly and at an early age.
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