Wimp

I am officially a wimp when it comes to dead animals. Right now I am a relieved wimp though. One of the girl's stinky gerbils died. Friday morning Grace told me that Sprinkles was not moving, she had even picked up and shook the cage. Because we were involved in our daily frantic race out the door to catch the bus, tears were shed by Sophie, but nothing else was done.

All day while the girls were at school I knew the dead gerbil was in that cage. I just couldn't make myself go and take it out. When the girls came home Grace matter of factly picked up the dead gerbil and deposited her in a shoebox. She wouldn't even wear rubber gloves. In a voice that was a bit exasperated she said that it is not gross, dead animals just feel cold and hard like metal. Eww. I made her wash her hands twice. Surprisingly, Sophie did not want to have a funeral, but Grace was insistent that we burying Sprinkles.

After some negotiation I told Grace she could bury the gerbil in the woods behind our house. When I went out a few minutes later there was the shoebox with about 2 inches of dirt piled on top in some dirt, but only about 10 feet from the house. Grace was no where to be seen but I could hear squeals of laughter from our neighbor's trampoline. When faced with a warm, sunny winter afternoon to play I guess her sentimentality only went so far.

Is it horrible to be relieved that a stinky, mess maker has departed this life? Am I horrible to have my 7 year old deal with a dead animal because it gives me the creeps? I think that fact that I have patiently allowed rodent pets into our home figures into this equation somehow.