Their ease in the face of the Inevitable must be rooted in the martyred saints who have gazed down on their childhood from church windows. Or perhaps it's a happy symptom of infant innocence; youth is more accepting of life's mysteries and less stilted by taboos.
We are accompanying my elderly mother through a cemetery. I am conscious that death is an impending reality for her and I talk distractingly of Jerusalem artichokes. My daughter paces insouciantly alongside us, eyeing the mossy tombs.
'When,' she suddenly addresses her grandmother, 'you're in your grave, I'll put all your make-up on it so you've got it to hand.'
She pauses, reflecting on what further comforts lie within her powers. 'Do you think,' she says, inspired, 'you'll be wanting your hairspray?'
Out of interest, are today's children too sheltered from death? And, if so, is that because we adults have less experience and, therefore, more fear of it than our predecessors? Would you let your children attend a family funeral? I'd welcome all views.