Explaining Cancer to Kids

I named the stuffed bunny from my mother “Kansor” after my daughter Blair’s sweet get well card to me. It’s just fun to say. Try it. “Stop hitting me with Kansor!” “Where did I put Kansor?” “Has anyone seen Kansor lately?” “Rowan calls dibs on sleeping with Kansor!” It’s almost as much fun as the time Kevin and I were trying to come up with an appropriate name for the penalty basket into which we put the children’s items of dispute. For instance, if the children were arguing over a rugby ball, we would place the ball in the “time out” penalty basket for an appropriate amount of time. We grew tired of calling it a “penalty basket” or the “time-out basket”.

“What’s the worst place on earth?” I asked Kevin one day several years ago. Kevin was in the Army reserves at the time. Without hesitation Kevin responded, “Iraq!”

Thus, the redefined country was introduced to our family. I loved watching the faces of strangers in retail stores do a double take when I would say things like, “Devlin, if you stay with me in the store we won’t have to send your blanket to Iraq,” or “Let’s avoid having to send your gloves to Iraq if you and your sister can’t agree on who gets to wear them.”

Calling cancer “clavicle” so as not to scare the kids. Naming the penalty basket “Iraq”. Naming my stuffed bunny “Kansor”. Hmmmmm. Sensing a theme here. The children seem well-adjusted. Really.