Confronted with the double-whammy of having to explain to our sons that there was a new baby coming and that the nanny wouldn’t be around as much, we chose the easier of the two. Sat ’em on the couch, pulled up mommy’s shirt (my job) and said, “Boys, mommy has a baby in her tummy.” Blank stares. “Guys, you are going to have a new brother or sister soon.”
“When?” As in, like later today or tomorrow morning? “In May.”
“Oh, that’s great. Can we see?” Now both are off the couch, poking, prodding the belly. The youngest thinks the belly button is the baby.
Then … the question. “So, how did it get in there?”
Mommy lunges for her stack of baby books. Index, index — “Babies, questions on where they come from” — damnit, where is the index?!
I rock back and start in my best 1950’s public service ad narrator’s voice, “well, son, when a man and a woman love each other very much –”
OH NO OH NO! I HAVE TO GO POOPY RIGHT NOW! He darts off for the toilet and completely forgets his question.
Saved by a crap attack. Isn’t it wonderful?