I’ve wished on more than one occasion over the past year that blogs had been invented or at a minimum I had been aware of my passion for writing when my kids were little. Kids do say and do the darnedest things and it would be great to have the funny stories recorded and shared. Then it dawned on me, the recurring theme in my life these days is, “it’s never too late,” and there is no reason I can’t apply it to this as well.
I’ve decided to devote one post a week to a memory and an anecdote. It seems fitting to start with the question all parents know is coming and most of us want to avoid.
I’ll always wonder what prompted Jeff to stop blowing bubbles in the bath water, peer over the edge of the tub and ask, “Where do babies come from?”
I’d only been a mother for four years and based on the combined wisdom of parents with more experience than me, I had been counting on at least four more years, and with any luck even longer, to formulate my response to this inevitable question.
The crease in his forehead and the intensity of his stare made it clear that I wasn’t going to be able to wiggle out of giving an accurate response.
I sized up the situation and, with great relief, realized that he hadn’t asked how babies were made, just where they come from; an important distinction that guided my response.
“They come from the mommy’s tummy,” I said.
He shook his head, a four year olds version of “duh,” “I know that part, but how do they get out?”
I took a deep breath, “They come out through the birth canal.”
In spite of my hope that such an official sounding answer would satisfy his curiosity, he asked, “Where’s the birth canal?”
“Well…..umm…it’s between the mommy’s legs.”
His gaze alternated between my face and my lap, “Did it hurt very much when they took your legs off?”