A Caterpillar in Heaven

By Cheri Winterberg

Back in the fall, my husband Doug encouraged our son, Owen, to take in a caterpillar as a pet. Now I realized that this was a trainwreck waiting to happen, because Owen hadn't yet had to deal with death. And I couldn't imagine a caterpillar surving long under the same roof as a certain aggressive toddler, who shall remain nameless, but let's call her "Rage."

The caterpillar, nicknamed "John Stinky," surprisingly lived several months. Doug would argue that the caterpillar lived longers, but I had to convince him that it really died, and wasn't just cocooning. I don't think caterpillars grow mold when cocooning. Thus, I had the death discussion with Own. I felt somewhat prepared, having attended the "Talking to your children about death" session with Reverend Susan.

I told Owen just a few facts: John Stinky had died and gone to heaven, where he'd be well-cared for. We should be happy about the few months he lived with us.

The next day. I heard Owen talking to a friend. "John Stinky died, but now Kevin is taking care of him. I don't have to worry because Kevin is a good boy and will do a good job," He said.

I racked my brain, trying to think of all the Kevins I know. The only one that came to mind was my friend's brother, who died a few years ago. I quickly came to the very-rational conclusion that, of course, Owen was now TALKING TO DEAD PEOPLE.

Wanting to tap into Owen's psychic side, I asked him, "How do you know Kevin?'

He replied, "YOU told me about him."

I did? Then it occurred to me. Owen had gotten the word "Kevin" out of "heaven". And so, in the world according to Owen, heaven is a little boy who takes very good care of caterpillars.