Can't Kids just stay Kids?

As I was driving Goose home from school today he announced with great gusto,

'Mummy, today we had a drill!'

'Oh, my kind of drill?'

I responded, my mind more on the snowy road than the actual conversation.

'You know, a drill in case somebody comes to the school to take us or kill us. We had to face the cubbies and be very quiet; it was fun.'

What.The.Hell.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to cry.

'Nobody's is going to come and take or kill you, Goose'

I answered quietly. Firmly.

'But Mum, somebody did, they came to a school and-'

I didn't let him finish. I couldn't. I don't think anyone will ever forget those poor babies, but I won't bring them up here.

My Goose is six years old, he has brown hair, blue eyes and loves to run. He's always telling me I am the most beautiful Mummy in the world. He's six years old. Six years old.

The world has a way of encroaching  on our lives without us realizing it; I knew I couldn't protect him from the world forever, I just thought I had more time.