I went in to tuck 5-yr old ds, Dub, in bed. He had his light on (unusual)and was propped up on his pillow with a sad look on his face. I asked him if he was okay. Dub burst into tears telling me his ladybug was stuck. Earlier this evening, he had found a ladybug on the ping-pong table. She had become his friend. I asked him where the ladybug was. She (I guess all ladybugs are "shes" because they are ladies, you know) was stuck in the weaving of the wicker nightstand. I could see her - belly up - not a good sign for a bug. She didn't look alive, but in Dub's mind she was indeed alive. He said that there was no way for her to get out. Wiping his tears, I delicately tried to mention that I thought she might be dead because she wasn't moving. He told me that she wasn't dead, but just stuck and cried some more. I told him maybe we could try to get her out with the vacuum cleaner. That idea didn't go over to well because then she "would be stuck in the hole". He still didn't get it that she was not alive. I mentioned to him that I'd try to help get her unstuck tomorrow after he had a good night sleep. He was satisfied with that answer.
These are the difficult, yet very important issues of a five-year old boy. I'm glad he shared his stuck ladybug burden with me - such tender tears and such precious moments.
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