She has the most beautiful hair. It’s long and blond and as thick as can be. It’s shiny and healthy. I am completely jealous. I wrote about it last year. You can read about it HERE.
On our way to school, McK and I chit-chat about all sorts of things. Sometimes we talk about her friends or music. Sometimes we listen to my favorite podcast if the topic is appropriate. Sometimes we listen to her favorite podcast to hear a good story. Sometimes we play an epic game of I spy…
Today, though, she caught me off guard. I heard a quiet question from the back and turned down Thunder so I could make out what she was saying.
Mama? How do babies get out of the mamas’ tummies?
I’ve been dreading this question. I could say something like magic or I don’t know. But I’ve been firm about telling her I would never lie so I feel like I need to be honest here.
How do you think they get out? Maybe I’ve dodged a bullet.
Nope! I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you. How did G and me get out of your belly?
Well, the doctor helps the baby come out. I’m hoping it’s a sufficient answer that is truthful enough that she cannot call me out on it when she learns the whole story.
But how do they get out?
I sat in silence for a few moments. She asked again. I took a deep breath.
They come out of the mama’s vagina.
Oh. Ok. Then a minute later…But how?
The mama has to push and the doctor helps.
Ok. Like when you hold my hand when I poop?
Kind of. But Daddy held my hand.
Ok. Can I get a munchkin?
What I thought was a big deal was not. Sometimes moms are the ones that make things bigger than they should be.
It was as easy as that. I just hope she doesn’t ask me how they get into the mamas’ tummies anytime soon.
I am writing for the 2019 March Slice of Life Challenge
It’s dark and dreary and way too comfortable in my extremely comfortable and ridiculously overpriced bed when the alarm wakes me from a dead-to-the-world kind of slumber. Continue reading
I think all parents hope their little ones are kind and polite. With that in mind, we have been teaching McK the magic words please and thank you. She does very well and even tosses in a you’re welcome every once in a while. Last week she said, I’m sorry to her shoes because she put them on the wrong feet. As a parent and a teacher, I couldn’t be prouder.
It rained last night. Not the gentle soothe you to sleep kind of rain. But the type of rain that tosses a floodie into a panic. Streets were watched to be sure the water was draining down the sewer. The radar was checked to see if the worst of it had passed. We briefly chatted about how we really should have installed the new sump pump last week. Fingers are crossed that there is no lake under the new house this morning.
We battled over her skirt this morning. Who knew that an-almost-two-year-old could have such strong opinions about a skirt? I chose the wrong one. Her choice was much too short. How is a too short skirt even an issue already?
It snowed the other day. And although it is March, this is Chicago so it isn’t that unusual. Snow happens and the world moves on. I have always loved the snow, especially if I do not have to go anywhere. Somehow the neighborhood seems quieter and warmer as if it is insulated.