Here the kids are sitting on Main Street during the Memorial Day Parade. We had a lot of fun seeing the marching bands, the veterans, the cub scouts and brownies. It was a beautiful sunny day and Jason didn't have to work. What better way to spend a morning? That was the good part.
This morning when I got up I hadn't even poured the coffee yet and I heard the kids. Noah was saying, "I'm not going to tell you, you have to ask Mom and Dad!" Finally Alanya came in and in her sweet way said, "Mama, what does nine-eleven mean?" Ben was right on her heals wanting an answer too. I took a deep breath and asked for a few minutes to have my coffee and get my thoughts together. How do you explain such hatred and fear to children? It's too bad you have to.
In the end I told them my nine-eleven story. It was Noah's very first day of preschool, he was three, and he screamed bloody murder as I handed him over to the teacher. I tore myself away holding Ben who was 10 months old and cried the whole way home. I put Ben down for a nap, turned on the Today Show and watched live right as the second plane hit. After about 30 minutes of watching the news coverage and seeing all the uncertainty unfold, my first reaction was to rush right back to that school and scoop Noah up in my arms, never to let him out of my sight again. I remember calling Jason at work to find out what I should do and he assured me he didn't think a preschool that was housed in a high school building in a suburban town would be a terrorist target. He told me Noah needed to stay.
That day was surreal, and I'm not sure I was fully able to describe what it meant to my 6 and 8 year olds, but I tried. I gave them the facts, and Noah also reminded me of the heroes on the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania. It seems so long ago now, but Memorial Day was a good opportunity to talk about it with the kids. A chance to be thankful for our freedoms and remember everyone who has given us that freedom.
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