I am feeling but poorly this weekend, so this post is one that I originally wrote four years ago. Please keep that in mind before you send your congratulations. I’m not pregnant!
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My precious little guy is *this close* to asking me the question I’m avoiding. He did ask me the other day how the baby was going to come out. Apparently some of his friends are cesarean babies, and he assumed all mommies get “cut open”. I told him the baby would find its own way out. He asked where it would come out. Ummm.
It’s certainly not that I mind telling him. He needs to have this information, and now is a perfectly fitting time to give it to him. The problem is he will tell everyone! When he discovers some fascinating little factoid, he feels the need to share it with everyone he meets -friends, grandma, the minister. After receiving The Blue Planet for Christmas, he told his preschool teacher that the kandaru is a little fish who will swim up your urethra, should you ever pee in the Amazon river. I love that he is so filled with curiosity, but I am beginning to wonder when he will develop that precious trait called discretion. Some things that we know are best kept to ourselves, like where babies come from and how much Mommy really weighs.
Another slight issue is that his brain makes connections very rapidly. Again, this is where the filter would come in handy. I can see his little face when we have the talk. “You and Daddy did THAT?” and from then on before he enters our room he might knock and ask “Can I come in, or are you guys bumping uglies in there?” My beloved daughter makes connections just as rapidly, but the discretion fairy visited her long ago. Instead of commenting in some embarassing fashion on the birds and the bees, she sits in silent judgement. That is the how it should be.
So when the little guy asked me about the baby’s place of egress, I found myself putting him off.. “I have a book about it I’ll read to you when we get home.” Books are the source of all knowledge in our house, so he was satisfied with that offer. Sadly, that book got lost in the move.
*** Update – rest assured that my child is now as educated as a nine year old can be on this particular subject. Thank you, Planet Earth. Although he may or may not believe that humans spawn like clown fish.