Driving in the car is the best time to catch a good conversation with Kenzie. On Saturday I took her out to buy a present for her friend Ashlyn's birthday. We were talking about Easter and the Resurrection when Kenzie says to me, "Mom, who will bury the last person left alive?"
"Umm, probably nobody. Maybe they'll just be whisked away to heaven." (I always have such brilliant answers, don't you think?)
"Will Daddy be the last person left alive?"
"Well, I don't think so. But I don't know." I am pretty sure Mike does not hope to be the only person left standing at the end of the world, although two years ago I canned enough pears to allow him to survive infinitely.
"Maybe Heavenly Father and Jesus will bury the last person," says Kenzie hopefully.
I think I will refrain from telling her my version of the end of the world which involves fighitng, gore and skeletons turning to dust in barren landscapes.
"Yes, maybe so," I say.
"I want to be the last person alive," Kenzie declares.
We teach our children to dream big around here.
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