Buried

Presley and I had a very grown up conversation on the way to school last week, but then she followed it up with a question that reminded me that she is in fact, still just 3 years old:

P1:  Daddy, where is the trash man? (She saw our trash out by the curb.)

Me:  He hasn't come to pick up the trash yet, I guess.

P1:  But daddy, where does the trash go?

Me:  What do you mean?

P1:  When the trash man gets the trash, where does he take it?

Me:  Presley that's a very smart question.  He takes it away and chops it up and puts it in a landfill.

P1:  Whats that?

Me:  That is a place where they bury trash.  So they will cut up the trash into small pieces, then bury it in the ground in a landfill.

P1:  Why?

Me:  They just do. We have to put it somewhere, and we bury it in the ground.

P1:  Is the trash buried with Peaches? (That's her great grandmother that passed away recently.)

Me:  (With tears of love in my eyes.)  Presley, you're sweet.  I love you.  Peaches is buried in a cemetery and the trash gets buried in a landfill.  They are both in the ground, but they are not the same place.