“When did you get a baby in your belly?” asked my three-year-old.
I thought for a minute. “Last spring,” I said, and started talking about the weather. My diversion tactic did not work.
“How will you get him out?” Noah persisted.
“Umm. Well. I don’t know. Let’s go play trains!”
I called my Grandma Aesop (otherwise known as Grams) for advice. She told me a fable….
“There once was a mother whose youngster asked her the same questions. ‘How was I born?’ her son asked. The mother decided to swallow her embarrassment and dive right into sex education. She explained all about sperm and eggs and how a baby comes out. After she was finished, she took a deep breath and asked her son if that answered his question. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Well, Tommy told me he was born at St. Catherine’s Hospital, and I was just wondering if that’s how I was born, too.’”
Moral: Maybe my toddler isn’t looking for a scientific explanation here.
So I crafted a few simple responses and waited for the next question. I didn’t have to wait long.
“Mom, how did you get the baby in your belly?” Noah asked me.
“Your daddy helped me,” I answered.
“Oh,” said Noah. “That was nice of him."
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