A Six Year Old Wonders
Last April my son and I broached the topic of how babies are made. It was an interesting moment. I wasn’t embarrassed or upset by it. Just kind of bemused. I very much enjoy these conversations with him. I find it fascinating to see the wheels in his head turn. I still maintain that he is far smarter than I am. It is only by virtue of life experience that he has not yet surpassed me.
Tonight he brought the topic back up. I am not really sure what prompted the discussion. I just know that he must have spent some time wondering about how everything works. So I gave him the down and dirty explanation. To use a silly analogy I gave him enough information to make a basic watch but not enough to craft a Rolex.
For a very brief time my explanation was sufficient and then the dam broke. A barrage of questions was unleashed upon me:
“Dad, babies don’t really come out of tummies do they.”
“Dad, how big is a vagina? Could I still fit in one?”
“Dad, do mommies ever pee or poop when the baby comes out?”
“Dad, who stuffs the babies inside the vaginas?
“Why don’t they fall out of the vaginas?”
“Can you have a penis and a vagina?”
“Can you give birth with a penis?”
“Where were you when I was born?”
These were relatively easy to deal with. The hard part was the comment he made. On the way home we stopped at a grocery store to get some milk. While we were in the store we passed a woman who was quite well endowed. My son looked pointed at her chest and said “she must have a lot of babies at home.”
It was one of those “dayenu” moments. If he had said this quietly it would have been enough. I won’t bore you with the whole sordid tale. Suffice it to say that the only way he could have been louder would have been to have announced this over the PA system. “Huge boobs on aisle 12!”
To quote Steve Hartman, “We move on.”
Later on in the car we spent more time talking about the baby making process. He wanted a step-by-step guide to intercourse. Do you stand/sit/lie down? Does it tickle? Does it hurt? Do you need to be a father to do it? Do women get pregnant the first time you do it? etc.
I asked him if the reason he wanted to know all about this was so that he could get a girlfriend and then tried not to laugh. He has told me on numerous occasions that he doesn’t like girls, that he won’t ever get married and that he wouldn’t mind if his sister went on more vacations without him.
This led into another discussion about why he has to go to his sister’s dance classes. He thinks that they are boring. I explained to him that when I was a kid I had to go my sister’s dance classes too. My father happened to be standing there during this part of the discussion. He was rather surprised when his grandson berated him.
“Grandpa, you didn’t teach my daddy that dance class is boring.” I stifled a laugh. It was clear that in my son’s mind he saw my father as ultimately being responsible for his having had to go to dance class.
That is about all the energy I have for writing now. It is time for this old man to get some shut eye. See you all in the AM.
Jack's Shack March 1, 2007 at 8:45 am
Sure, she can call me. I have all the answers. Cue maniacal laughter. 😉
Jack's Shack February 28, 2007 at 6:50 pm
You posted your comment at the same moment I posted mine. Didn’t want you to think that I missed it.
Jack's Shack February 28, 2007 at 4:11 pm
I hear this story from every middle child, including two of my sisters.
marallyn ben moshe February 28, 2007 at 4:11 pm
oy jack that brought back memories…my daughter waited until it was our turn in the checkout line at the supermarket in kiryat hayovel…one of those moments that is instilled in my memory…all of a sudden the entire store went silent…i tried the ‘i’ll tell you in the car, honey’…’but imma i want to know NOW’…even the cash registers stopped…good to laugh jack…enjoy these moments…they pass all too soon
Annie February 28, 2007 at 3:03 pm
You are much nicer than my parents. My brothers have never attended a single: concert, dance recital, track meet, swim meet, etc. While I, being the responsible one (and the first to drive) had to do that for them. Lame.
The curse of being the middle child.
Anonymous February 28, 2007 at 10:21 am
Oh, yeah, I think Dolly Parton should be voted “mother of the year!” LOL!
Alan aka Avrum ben Avrum February 28, 2007 at 8:35 am
Rather funny that!
Very Sincerely Yours,
Alan D. Busch