Dear Kid,

Holy Moley, was I wrong.

I thought I had it all figured out.

Having put several seconds of thought together, I decided I knew how I want to die. (No, this is not morbid.)

I decided I want to be 92 and get stepped on by an elephant. Squish. Done. No lingering moments or tubes. And the idea that I’ll be spry enough to be somewhere where a rogue elephant could step on me appeals immensely.

So I got talking to some people about it (at first they thought it was morbid too, but they soon got the point). And someone innocently suggested that I should research death by elephant to see if an elephant has ever stepped on someone to kill them.

Hilarious, I thought. Great topic. Wonderful. Amusing. Adorable even.

Not.

It turns out that execution by elephant was a thing. Particularly in India where (and I quote) “Asian elephants were used to crush, dismember, or torture captives in public executions.” That. Is. Awful.

Elephants are highly trainable, and they were taught both to kill people instantly or to torture them slowly over a long period of time. These trained pachyderms signified (again, I quote) “the ruler’s absolute power and his ability to control wild animals.” Disgusting.

I can’t tell you more about this because this is a horrible, awful way to treat animals. And people.

What I had in mind was much more of the Disney version. Wait, some of their stuff with elephants is pretty ugly too.

What I had in mind was much more of the James Bond version (the old movies). No blood. Nothing horrible. Just me being spry and lively and accidentally stepping under a heffalumps hoof. Maybe while the elephant was tap dancing or something.

In any case, I hereby apologize to all elephants. I will go think about other things.

Love, Mom