Putting the Oldest to Bed

I was reminded last night by Dear Sir of the cute but strange little things the Oldest has said in his short past (he is nearly 12). Last night the Oldest approached our bed (where we read a lot) to pray and hug us good night.

"He's coming to die, he's coming to die, he's coming to die," chimed Dear Sir.

"What are you saying?!" the Oldest laughed awkwardly, hands folded, ready to pray.

"You used to say that when you were little. We had no idea what you were talking about."

(I remembered at that moment, a semi-petrified little boy with tears in his eyes holding up a picture to show me. It had many scribbles, some red, and I think the depiction of a person under the scribbles. "He's coming to die!" said the boy with a quiver, "He's coming to die!" I think he meant Jesus, but I wasn't sure.)

"Santa Claus is coming to DIE!" Dear Sir sang.

"WHAT?!" piped the Oldest with a laugh, highly amused, but perplexed.

"You used to sing that too," said Dear Sir.

"That sounds kind of cute, but kind of weird," said the Oldest, still folding his hands with a smile. I noticed how nice of a smile he has now. I couldn't believe how enormous he looked.

"A doo-doo bah, aaaaahhhhh da woosie!" sang Dear Sir, torturing the boy with the familiar bathtub song the Oldest made up when he was extremely little, well before he could speak much.

"DAD.....!"

We laughed at him a good bit.

"Let's pray," said Dad.