I'm afraid I digress, but a few background facts are necessary to tell the story. The story of the Birds and the Bees and the Missing Freaking Stork. The fact that my daughter is 5 and that already she knows more than I ever wanted to discuss comfortably with a five year old. It all started some many months ago when, after a bath, my daughter made a discovery. A Hole in Her Bottom. Quelling the panic I told her quickly that the hole was indeed supposed to be there, it was something called her Middle Bottom. A speedy explanation followed which mentioned the Front Bottom and the Back Bottom, which she knew about and the Middle Bottom which was newly discovered. I told her, scrambling for words, that her Middle Bottom was a thing that all girls and women had and that it was the very place that babies, having grown in tummies, needed to come out of. She knew babies grew in tummies, she'd told me often there were several in hers, I'd casually laughed, told her that she'd have to wait until she was a grown up and she'd argued that there were babies in her tummy and we'd both left it at that. The look on her face this time, however, showed the relief that her Middle Bottom was quite thankfully normal coupled with the curiosity of shock that I might in fact be telling the truth. She put her hands on her hips, looked me up and down and said "Really?". I told her 'most definitely' and we carried on getting dressed and I thought that was the end of the matter.
I couldn't have been more wrong. I also wished at one point of time in the questions that followed I hadn't used the words "the babies have to get in your tummy first" before mentioning the place in which they came out. There was a convoluted discussion about eggs and sperm mixing to make a baby, confirmation of the great path outwards, an intrigued four year old, a scrambling mother and thankfully a large pile of washing that needed doing. It was some hours later when Mr G and I were sitting in the living room, chatting about our day, when the Rabbit with a thoughtful look of purpose interrupted the conversation with a question and statement of fact: "Mummy," she said "If the babies are going to come out of my middle bottom" she said as I sucked up air and readied myself for the question "Do they get in my Back Bottom?" she asked.
I don't believe I've ever said "NO" as many times, nor as rapidly in succession. I also believe I have never felt myself quite as lucky as when my small child accepted the answer "no" and never pressed for the how any further. In the weeks following she made many other mentionings and murmurings, seemingly forgetting the parts about the babies coming out and skipping to the part where they were in fact happy growing babies mixing eggs and 'spirits'. There was the awkward moment when she insisted she was going to get her spirit "from Daddy" and there were also tears about how unfair it was that she couldn't start growing babies NOW because grown ups always get to do everything. Humph. Happily our lives slipped back into comfortable innocence and the little one's thoughts on the matter seemed to dissipate. Until a few weeks ago.
It seemed to start with the question, while were were out walking, "how do you tell girl cats and boy cats apart?" Daddy kept walking, maybe a little faster, while I replied "by looking at their bottoms". The response was laughter and more laughter, the child is now 5 and nothing, no nothing is funnier than toilet humour. "No seriously" I said, although why I persisted when we could have delved into a discussion purely about poohs and blow offs I may never know. "No they DON'T" said the five year old, muffling her giggles, "what do you MEAN?". "Well how are boys and girls different?" I asked. I was proudly told that BOYS have PEE-nises (just in case the neighbours hadn't been eavesdropping) and girls do not. "Exactly" I said "And so do boy cats." At this point it became clear that Mr G had NO idea why I hadn't just said "Boy cats play cricket and girl cats do ballet" as I was being met with the same reaction. "Boy cats do have penises" I insisted, they're just really small and they hide". Finally, FINALLY, the giggling stopped, the child was quiet and the walk continued. Then the question came: "Do the boy cat's penises hide in the day and come out at night?" said the 5 year old. "Hum, something like that" replied Mummy and Daddy.
Once again, I had a lucky escape. We kept walking, life kept moving, innocence was bliss. I did, however, begging to ponder the question of what to tell little children about 'the Birds and the Bees' as I knew my little deep thinker would eventually ask about how babies get in Mummies' Tummies. I asked a few of my online Mum friends when they thought the discussion might come up and what information we should arm our children with. The general consensus was that 5 was still very little, that information should gradually be built up, and that it was not a discussion any of us were looking forward to. One friend said her 9 year old had no idea and another mentioned how she'd found out at school and remembers being shocked. I myself don't remember the great reveal so I'm thinking I found out either too young to remember or I did in fact have the gradual discovery I hoped to allow my daughter. I did recall my mother giving me a book filled with details when I was around ten to answer any questions that might come up but they were in fact details and not basic facts. I remember LOVING that book, or more specifically, loving my mother. Exactly specifically what I loved about my mother was the fact that she knew that the last thing in the world I wanted to ever discuss was sex, and what's more, the last person I wanted to discuss it with was her. Few things have changed, except the very, very, very last person I ever want to discuss sex with is very specifically my daughter. The five year old. The Rabbit.
As a coincidence, a friend the following week posted a link to a very funny article on the subject on Facebook. I attach a link here and couldn't recommend it more. While I did a wee bit of thinking, considered maybe thinking that maybe soon I should be looking for a book that introduced the topic, the birds were very much singing in my ears and the world of my daughter appeared still to be a pink one, filled with fairies and dolphins and unicorns. I can tell you that nothing, nothing about the question of babies getting into tummies and how clever mummies are for making perfect babies and how wonderful a Mummy I hope to be in being open and discussing Birds and Bees and not Storks would prepare me for the statement that was soon to come out of my dear little daughter's mouth. "So" said the chirpy wee voice in the booster seat in the back of the car "Apppparently" she said, as I waited innocently, trying to be attentive. "Appparently to get a baby" she said, as the alarm SHOULD have gone on, "Apparently, to get a baby, Mummy, the PEEnis HAS to go IN the VA -GI-NA" was what she said.
I could have screamed to a holt. I could have casually pointed out a shape of a cloud in the sky that looked EXACTLY like a stork but instead I sort of squeaked "hum, yes, well, um, that would be right." Her turn to be silent. Mulling it over. Clearly she had anticipated denial, maybe laughter, probably not confirmation. "Oh" she said eventually. "So" she hadn't finished and I completely hadn't anticipated this level of depth "Is that what happened?" she asked "Is that what happened with YOU and the Caped Crusader?". I could have crashed the car. I could certainly have leapt from it and run but instead I heard the words come out of my mouth "Um yes....because um darling, that is how you get a baby". I admit my voice was really by now quite squeaky. "Oh" said the five year old. "Well I think that its GROSS" she uttered, clearly a bit disgusted with me. "GOOD" I said, that's just as well because Children SHOULD find it disgusting, it's something that only adults do."
Thankfully, for the time being anyway, THAT was the end of the matter.
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