So many kids have asked me “why did you kill them?” when talking about dinosaurs as if I, personally, had hurled a meteorite at them 65 million years ago.
I guess I’ve really been giving off “time-traveling murderer” vibes today. I styled my hair differently this morning. Maybe that’s why.
I was just talking to a little girl who interrupted me with new questions before I could answer her previous inquiries. I was speaking as rapidly as I could, trying to keep up with her, but then she asked who Christopher Columbus was.
“He was the first European to officially sail to the Americas,” I said.
“Is he dead?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “He’s been dead for hundreds of—“
“Why did you kill him?”
I stammered for a moment, uncertain how she arrived at that conclusion, and then explained that while I didn’t kill him, he was a cruel person who killed and enslaved lots of people and I am very glad he’s not alive anymore.
She looked at me suspiciously and then said “So you DID kill him.”
I…. fine. Okay. Sure. He had it coming.
The children aren’t wrong, you just haven’t found the time machine yet.
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