Today you experienced death for the first time. As we knew would happen, one of your fish went belly-up. It was so tempting to wait until you were distracted and scoop him out before you noticed. We could have avoided the tears, the fishy funeral, the sadness in learning about this part of life.
But we can't do that. It's part of life, and part of why pets are important. So I told you that Mickey was dead, and you cried. You cried when I told you, and you cried as you said "Good-bye. Thanks for being a good fish. I'll miss you so much." Then you ran away and I gave him a burial at sea, because you didn't want to bury him in the flowers you and your dad planted together. Then we talked and you cried some more and I cried a little too, because some parts of life are ugly and hard and I can't keep thm away from you forever.
I can soften them, though, with a big glass of chocolate milk and snuggles, and I can teach you about what we believe about life after death. I can wipe away tears, yours and mine, and be there for you when you feel this sad. That has to be enough, even though it doesn't feel like it is, but I love you, and I'll always be there, with a hug and a big glass of chocolate milk.