Octopuses Die
Raimi has a beautifully illustrated but stiltedly-written book about how different types of sea animals are born, and how sea horses are unique because the males give birth. Raimi loves it because it has pictures of whales and sharks and nautiluses with tiny sea horses hiding in the corals around the margins of the page.
The problem is, the rhyming poem about each animal is written in language that’s hard to explain (i.e. sea snakes are born alive and cold), and the worst example is on the page about the blue-ringed octopus, who will “lay 300 eggs, then sadly pass away.”
I was reading this to Raimi the other night, and he says, “Pass away?”
Me: Yeah, pass away. It means die. It means she won’t be around any more.
Raimi: She dies?
Me: Yeah, octopus babies don’t need their mommy — they can take care of themselves when they’re born, and I guess she dies but it’s ok.
Raimi looks thoughtful, but not at all bothered by this information.
The next day, we passed a building that’s being torn down.
Me: Raimi! Look at that! They’re taking that building down! Look at those diggers! Look at that mess!
Raimi: Is that building dead?
Me: No, sweetie, buildings don’t die. Only living things die. Like trees or octopuses.
Raimi: Octopuses die.
Me: Yeah. But like, when trees die, they go into the ground and make new dirt and that helps new trees grow. So it’s kind of cool.
I was really grasping at straws. The thing is, I don’t want to deny the reality of death — I don’t want to build up the suspense so that it’s even more scary than it naturally is. But it’s a hard thing to explain, you know? Very hard to explain.
So then last night we were having dinner and I was telling Kevin that a friend of ours just lost a family member, and stupidly I just said it — “Her cousin died” and Raimi perks up and says, “He died?”
Me: Uh… yes.
Raimi: Octopuses die.
So, this has apparently made an impression. Kevin was of course kicking me under the table. Not a conversation we meant to have with him at this point. I want to get him a goldfish sometime as a present… if we do, I think we’ll be talking about the nature of life and death some more. At least, that’s been my experience with goldfish.