a different kind of humor

The seven year-old made up a story. It started this way.

A boy and a girl's mother died.

A big grin spreads across his face with the excitement of telling me this story.

Their father put her in a coffin. He decided to give his kids some money to spend at the store.

Bigger grin here.

Me: This is not sounding like a very happy story.

J: Oh, it's a very happy, funny story

The father told the kids their mother was just sleeping really deeply even though she wasn't.

Me: But he shouldn't do that.

J: He just didn't want to hurt their feelings.

The kids took the money and ran off to the store to buy an enormous alarm clock.

J: See, now that's funny!

Yeah, I'm just rolling on the floor here.

Shall I assume he is sick of his mother and wants her to go sleep in an underground box? He certainly has an appreciation for black comedy. The child really has been preoccupied with death lately. The stories he tells are full of it. Always, it is taken in a light-hearted manner. Embarrassingly, even though he is the fourth child to hit this age, I don't remember if it is a stage they all went through.

You know, the story's kinda growing on me. Maybe I will hang it on the fridge.