“Mommy, what’s a soul?”
Jedi is at that tender age where his brain is an absorbent sponge, greedily soaking up every morsel of knowledge it can. What’s scary about this is that the breadth of the information he’s storing comes straight from me, as I’m his preferred go-to person. Though when he must turn to his father, the experience doesn’t fare much better. This responsibility is not taken lightly. I want to make sure I’m answering his questions honestly and correctly to the best of my limited ability. Which means I can’t just make this stuff up.
At 6 years old, most of what he asks is fairly simple. Some, however, hinder me perplexed.
Then, there are those questions that leave me staring slackjawed at the wall, hoping he’ll get distracted by something else and forget it altogether.
“What’s a soul?”
“Well… it’s… uh… it’s kind of who you are.”
His eyes began to squint in confusion. I didn’t blame him, I was about to confuse myself.
“You know, it’s… well, like your spirit.”
“Oh… Mommy? What’s a spirit?”
Shit, kid. “Why don’t we just Google it?”