Remembering the Crocodile Hunter

I'm still feeling the repercussions of my MIL's visit over Labor Day weekend, which was the weekend the Crocodile Hunter was killed.

Our son spent the night in the hotel with them. The next night we had an interesting conversation.

Vito: Mommy, there was this guy, the Alligator Man. He was swimming in the ocean and a sting ray poked him in the chest. The stinger went all the way through his heart. They called the paramedics but it was too late. He was already dead.

Me: Who told you this?

Vito: Grandma Gertie.

That night and the new two nights, and every once in a while since then, Vito has really expressed lots of sadness over the thought of death. He's now filled with questions, like "Are you gonna die? Am I gonna die? Who's going to take care of me when you and Daddy die?"

I mean, does a 3-year-old really need to know the graphic details surrounding the death of a man he never knew about in the first place?

Once again, thanks Gertie!