When we saw the headlines, my husband and I barely spoke. The boys knew nothing about it; they just wondered why their mother was so quiet. Quietly, we hushed the radio, turned off the news, and put our phones to one side, so that my children wouldn't have to hear what had happened.
At four, five, and seven, I don't want their impression of the world beyond the end of their street to be one of horror. Little boys raised in an atmosphere of terror seem likely, in my experience, to grow into men full of rage. So I convince myself that when they are old enough to understand, we'll talk about it.
But what is the 'right' age? Even now, I don't feel old enough to deal with this, and I don't have the words to explain. So I stay quiet.
Then I start to worry. What if they hear snippets of conversations in the playground at school that leave them confused or scared? Worse still, perhaps my silence will leave a gap for opportunists to fill with their own vested interests and bitter ideals. We need to talk about this.
Perhaps I should just leave the news on, and prepare to field their questions? But to try to explain the horrors of the world via raw and real footage of events means giving up the small amount of control I have over this horrific situation. The children need someone to tell them what is happening who understands exactly the sort of things they need to hear. They need me.
I decide that I won't discuss the disturbing details with them, but I won't let the terror attacks pass unmentioned. We will talk. I will hold them close, I will tell them they are loved. We'll talk in concepts they can understand: that kid called Sam who ruined their friends's birthday - does that mean all kids called Sam ruin parties?
That time the four-year-old hit the five-year-old. Should the bigger boy have hit him back? And how hard?
That big boy at school who they were afraid of. Do they remember when the seven-year-old pulled a face in response to his threats, and everybody laughed? Do they recall how once they stopped being so afraid, he stopped being quite so powerful?
There are no right answers to these questions, but they will, at least, encourage us to talk. More importantly than that, it will encourage them to think; to work out for themselves how to process terrible news when I'm not around to cover their ears.
I won't pretend to have all the answers: I'll tell them I don't know why people do bad things, that I find it hard to explain - but that even when we don't know what to say, we can still talk.
I will help my children discuss what they think, before others start putting the words into their mouths.