Today Neilen asked me, out of the blue:

"Mommy, does married mean when you die?"

My first thought is "What has Aaron been telling my son?"

Then I think, "Why don't your ask your uncle. He seems to think that would happen."

Instead, I gather myself and conclude that my son was just suffering from word confusion, so I say:

"No, baby. Some people are buried when they die. Is that what you mean? When you get married to someone, it's because you want to live the rest of your life with them. I married your daddy, so that we could have you."

Not letting me off so easily, he questioned:

"Did you buy me?"

I admit, I first replied:

"Yes, we did. We bought you from Wal-mart. You were on the clearance aisle."

"Was I the best one?"

"Of course you were."

"Okay."

"No, really, Neilen - you grew in Mommy's belly, that's how we got you. You were a present for Daddy and me, sort of like a Christmas present, but earlier."

"How did I get there?"

I folded. "I don't know. You just did."

Now how in the world did I get myself into that situation? Already dodging the dreaded question with my four year old? My heavens.

Lesson learned.

I should've just said. "Yes, honey, married is when you die, so you should never do it, ever. You should stay home and live with me forever."

That wouldn't have scarred him for life.

Yeeeeeeesh.

Now I'm waiting for him to pose tougher life questions, and perhaps I'll be better prepared. But I doubt it. After all, I wonder myself if there's life after marriage - and my entire motherhood thus far seems like a blur. It is almost like we made a credit card purchase that we're still paying off four years later, with INTEREST. The only difference is that motherhood doesn't have a return policy or a 30-day money back guarantee, nor does marriage, for that matter. Heh.