The Ladybug Saga

He cried real tears.

They fell upon his cheeks, one after another and he sobbed...that real kind of sobbing that just makes you cry along.

He sobbed at the loss of his new friend who he met and lost all in the same day.

I'm talking of my 'Lil K.

Yesterday he was with a friend walking to school and they came across a bunch of ladybugs.  I wasn't there, but the story goes, if I remember correctly, that 'Lil K kept trying to get one to walk on him and finally one did.  He was so excited and said things like, "He likes me!" and "Oooh, it tickles."  You know, the things you say when a ladybug is waltzing up and down your arm.

I believe he walked all the way to preschool with his new friend on his arm.  Two peas in a pod...until...

He put his new friend in his pocket.

He thought it would be good to take him home and put him in a box.  (The ladybug is a "him", by the way)

But ladybugs don't belong in the pocket of your brand new skinny jeans...or any jeans for that matter.

It was the talk of the preschool..."The Ladybug Saga", I think the teacher called it.

When we got home he started to cry again.

I decided to take the above picture that my friend had sent me and frame it for him so he could always remember his little friend.  I showed him pictures of my husband's grandmother who had passed away, and pictures of my pets who have died.  I wanted to show him that we had pictures too; we've lost loved ones too.  It's a part of life and it's nice to have pictures to remember.

He kept telling me that his friend had died.

"HE DIED IN MY POCKET!", he wailed.

"Well, how do you know he is dead?", I questioned.  (Genius question, I know.)

"HE WASN'T MOVING!"

(Oh, right.)

I then asked him if "he" was still in his pocket.

"He" was.

So I told him I'd get the ladybug out of his pocket and we'd bury it in the yard, that that is what people did when somethingone dies.

I got a tissue, and as gently as possible got the bug out of his pocket.  It was then I noticed something.

But of course it was in bad shape with a broken wing, at least one broken leg and probably numerous other injuries too small for my eyes to see.

As you can imagine, 'Lil K was beside himself with grief.

"I DON'T WANT HIM TO DIE!", he kept crying.

Since I'm of the mind that it's best to be honest with your children and just tell it like it is, I told him that he "might" not die, but he was in rough shape and that he probably would.  I tried to soothe him by saying that the ladybug had a great life, you were a good friend to him....yada-yada-yada...the things you say at times like this.

I decided the best thing to do for 'Lil K and his ladybug friend was to put "him" in the palliative care unit of our patio.  I got a plastic lid, some grass, a couple of leaves and some droplets of water (stop laughing at me!) and put him there to live out the last minutes of his life.

But "he" was a fighter.  That's obvious due to the fact he survived in the pocket of an almost 4-yr-old's jeans.  For hours.  He kept teetering along in his make-shift hospital bed, but I'm afraid it was futile.

First thing this morning, 'Lil K wanted to check on our patient.

As expected, Ladybug, had died during the night.

We found a box, put him in, along with leaf, grass and a clover and with Big Bro T  and spade in hand set off to find a nice spot to bury him.

It was a lovely service.

Since then I've had to remind 'Lil K several times that once we lay someone to rest, we don't then dig them up.

R.I.P. Mr. Ladybug.

Linking up with Greta 

over at gfunkified