So, my three-year old was with me yesterday morning when I found Herb's body. She was right by my side as I wrapped his body in trash bags and then stored him in the outdoor fridge for later burial. I had to continually explain to her that Herb was dead and what dead meant.

In between finding the body and finally getting her to daycare, I was prone to outbursts of crying. My little princess would offer some sympathetic crying. I don't think she fully grasped the situation. She knew I was upset. To her this meant she should also be upset. If I started to cry, she'd do what I can only describe as "mock sobbing."

Anyway, when I dropped her off daycare, the three-year-old caregiver wasn't in yet, so I had to leave her with the one-year-old caregiver. I was going to write a note to the three-year-old caregiver about finding our cat dead, but I decided all I needed to do was tell the one-year-old caregiver. I should have written a note.

At around 10:30 a.m. I get a call from the daycare assistance director. Here's how it went:

Me: Hello.
AD: Hi, this is "Sarah" from daycare. Sorry to bother you at work.
Me thinking: Crap, she's going to tell me I have to pick up little princess.
Me saying: No problem. Is something wrong.
AD: Actually, I feel kind of weird asking this, but is everything okay at home?
Me:Well, actually, we found one of our cats dead this morning. And little princess was with me when I found him.
AD: Oh, thank goodness. Not that your cat is dead. But she has been telling everyone that her Daddy is dead. That he's in heaven with the angels. I kept telling her teacher that she has to be wrong, you wouldn't have just dropped her off.

So there you have it. In less than a three-hour period, my "grief-stricken" child turned our cat's death into her father's death.