On crossing the bar

Milo: “Mommy, when am I going to die?”
Me: “Hopefully not for a long, long, long, long time.”
Milo: “And then I’ll go to heaven.”
Me: “Yep, and I’ll be there waiting for you and I’ll say, ‘Hey Milo! Great to see you again buddy!”
Milo: “And I’ll ask for milk. Yeah. Definitely milk.”
Me: “… milk?”
Milo: “Yeah, ’cause heaven’s far away and I’ll be really thirsty.”