Our oversized, but not-so-comfy recliner in our living room, just after naptime. Journey was cuddling on my lap for a few blessed minutes before her sister woke up--a Sunday afternoon ritual in our home of late. Little did I know what that blond little head was cooking up and was about to spew forth from it's perfectly-shapen miniature pink lips. Oh mercy.
"Mommy, just where do babies really come from?"
As my heart flutters and I nearly choke on my diet coke, I stammer. NO, not yet. She can't be asking me this yet. Her brothers still have not inquired, for which I have been eternally grateful.
I fish around madly for an answer that will suffice until I can issue a more prepared and accepatable one--like 10 years from now. If only we could have some kind of parental-alert that would give us even a five minute lead on questions like this.
"Well, Journey, babies, well, er, come from inside mommies' bellies"
Pause. A pregnant pause, if you will.
"No, I know that already, 'cause that is where Serenity came from. Cause she was in your belly, then you went to the hospital, then the doctor helped, then she came out, then she came home. But How did she get in there?"
Of course, my exquisitely curious and out-spoken daughter was not to be placated with this kind of beat-around-the-bush response. No ma'm. SO, in brief, I kind of explained to her what helps a baby "get inside the tummy".
After our chat, which actually took only a few minutes, and much to my relief remained G-rated, allowed a few more minutes for me to compse myself while my daughter looked at me very accusingly. Her mind was trying to make sense out of what I had just told her, I convinced myself.
"No wonder I don't like to play with Porter, Mommy. I just knew he was up to something".