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This entry is being sponsored by pictures from Daniel's costume shop.

I know, I've been sort of quiet this week, except for my post about Prince. There's a reason for that.

After Prince passed, Josie and I faced the prospect of telling the kids. That was actually an agonizing decision: to we tell them before, and allow them the chance to say a final goodbye, or tell them after the fact?

In desperation, I called my mother. Her advice was to do us all a favor and say our final goodbyes, and simply tell the kids that Prince was really sick in the morning, we took him to the hospital, and he passed away that afternoon. Not a lie, more of a big picture on the exact details. My mom was always good at covering things over, remember. When my grandmother's boyfriend, Wendy passed, when I was eleven, she informed all the kids that Nana's boyfriend had moved to California. Which, I suppose, is something like a death.

Telling Ashes, as I expected, was quirky. She just sort of smiled, and didn't cry at all. Just took it in. She did say "NO!" at first, but that was it. Annie, when she was told, burst in to tears.

But Theo was the worst.

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