(Sperm credit: bethannshannon)As if the whore question wasn't bad enough, Colin came at me with another tough one a couple of days ago. Two awkward questions in less than a week? What kind of bad parental karma is that?
He's asked me plenty about Coby (impending baby #3) during my pregnancy: what he's doing in there, when he'll come out, how he'll come out. But lucky for me, he hadn't asked the one question that I most dreaded answering ... until I reached my eighth month of pregnancy, and then it apparently dawned on him.
"How did Coby get in your belly, Mommy?"
I should have been prepared to answer. I should have known he would inevitably ask, and I should have rehearsed something in my head. But "should have" is no help, and so I floundered. All I could think of is what not to say to him: "It all started when Mommy did that thing Daddy likes ..."
Therefore, the whole debacle went something like this:
"Um ... well, son ..." (I clear my throat, and repeat the question to stall for time.) "... You want to know how he got in there?"
Colin waits patiently ... for probably the first time in his entire life.
"Well. Then. A mommy has eggs inside her body. They're very small, and they're part of what it takes to make a baby."
He looks at me skeptically. "Eggs?"
"Yes, they're very small," I repeat. "Not like ... not like chicken eggs. And Daddies have ... seeds. And when the eggs and the seeds are combined, that's what makes a baby, and it grows in the Mommy's tummy."
Colin stares. "Where are the seeds?"
"They're, um ... well, they're in your testicles. You know, your balls?"
Since he's pantsless, as usual, he reaches down for a squeeze. "I don't feel any seeds," he says accusingly, as though I might be lying.
I sound like a total moron, I think to myself. I usually offer much better explanations than these, but this one caught me totally off-guard. "Well, Colin, the seeds ... you only have them when you're a grown-up man. And even then, they're too small to feel with your fingers."
"Can I see the seeds when I'm a grown-up man?" he asks.
"Um ... well, sort of," I say, desperately trying to block an image of all the cringe-worthy stuff he'll start doing as a teenager. (Ew, ew, ewwwww!) "But to really see them, you'd need a microscope."
"What's a microscope?"
Ahhhhh ... thankyousweetJesus ... a diversion!
I explain to him, in lengthy detail, what a microscope is - hoping that it will put an end to the conversation at hand. But I should know him better than that. More questions ensue, including a few where I cop out and tell him he'll have to ask Daddy (bwahahaha). Then the discussion blessedly culminates with this:
"Mommy, I want to make a baby with seeds."
"Someday, sweetheart," I tell him. "When you're over 25 and have a steady job and your own place and a woman who is worth reproducing with."