dearscarlet:

Dear Scarlet,
Today our roommate, Ashley, made you a hardboiled egg.  She made the mistake of giving it to you when it was still warm, without taking the shell off. You made quick friends with it and refused to eat it. When it dropped to the ground and cracked you had a bit of an emotional breakdown. I told you it would be ok and that we’d make another. We boiled another egg and drew a little face on him. You named him Trevor. A few hours later, Trevor also met his untimely death. I thought you were going to die right along with him. You were bawling on my chest when I suggested we have a funeral. We went out into the backyard and dug a small hole. We found a rock to put on the gravesite and picked a little flower from the bush. You, of course, decided that Engine Driver by The Decemberists would be the perfect funeral song. We sat around his grave and held hands. We closed our eyes and swayed around a little as it played. After that I decided we should probably say a few words about Trevor. When I asked you what the best part about him was you said, through tears, “his mommm” meaning yourself. I tried my hardest not to chuckle. Later we walked to the gas station and you saw a giant rock, it was some sort of neighborhood marker or memorial, I don’t know. You looked at it and said, “That must have been a huge egg!” So clever, always. I love you, my compassionate little egg momma.