Discussing the Bombing with My Daughter

Monday afternoon, I sat on the rocking chair in my living room when my cellphone rang. It was my wife calling from work.

“Have you heard?” she said softly over the phone. “Terrible news.”

I had no idea. The TV had been off all day. Lainey, age 6, baby Joey and I had just celebrated Patriots' Day with Paul Revere’s ride reenactment. After he galloped by Parallel Park, we went home. Now, Lainey sat on the couch playing Fruit Ninja and Joey was on my lap, having a bottle.

“It’s really bad,” my wife warned. “But I’m fine. Just calling, you know, for Lainey.”

I sighed, not looking forward to telling Lainey. I hung up the phone and sat there, wondering what to say. I waited. Snack time came and we hung out in the kitchen. I reached for the radio—nope—can’t turn that on. How should I do this, I wondered.

When the Newtown story broke, we somehow managed to sidestep the initial onslaught of media saturation. Lainey was shielded from the news for a week. By the time she heard about it, much of the horror had faded. The suffering was still very real, but the terror part had taken more of a backseat. And Lainey took that news in stride. She was sad for those who had died, but she never cried, or feared going to school.

But now with the Boston Marathon bombing, my lord, there is no hiding. This is extremely local, hard-hitting, terrible stuff, talked about everywhere, by everyone, and will continue as such even after they find the maniacs guilty. I took a deep breath.

“Lainey,” I said, “you know that marathon they were running today right?”

She nodded. Of course she knew—they did a marathon celebration at school.

“Well,” I said, “some crazy, terrible people did something really bad, and a bomb went off.”

“Did people die?” she asked calmly.

I nodded, avoiding details, “Couple people.”

Lainey sighed and finished her snack. I had spoiled her with ice cream.

Then she suddenly spoke up, and she was mad, “That’s not fair, right? Why can’t all people just be nice and be good to each other all the time?”

“Exactly,” I said, “I have no idea.”

As the investigation continues Lainey sees the news commercials, hears radio updates and notices flags at half-mast. She hasn’t cried, but she knows something is wrong. She sadly takes it all in, and goes on with the daily routine, much like the rest of us.

My deepest sympathy to the victims and their families.