This evening we were all sitting down to a typical lovely family meal – my daughter was throwing her dinner and dumping her milk on her tray, while my son was making frowny faces at his food – when my son out of nowhere asked, “Mommy, did God make you so that you could make me?”
“Well, yeah, sort of, Jack”, I said. “That’s pretty much how it happened”.
And then my husband added, “And God also made me so that I could make you too. Your mommy and I made you together.”
To which Jackson promptly asked: “What did you use?”
“Uh, what?”, my husband asked, trying to buy time, the pressure mounting in his head. What. Was. He. Going. To. Say?
“What did you use to make me?”
“Well”, my husband chose his words very carefully, “We used a lot of love. And music. And art. And…love.”
What???, I’m thinking. What does THAT mean? Oh because he’s good at music and art. I get it. Ok, continue Dr. Ruth.
Meanwhile, the look on my husband’s face just said: Please don’t ask any more questions. Please don’t ask anymore questions.
“Oh ok”, my son said. “That’s why I’m good at all those things”.
When it became clear that the conversation was over and my son was satisfied with his daddy’s Disney explanation of sex, my husband let out a visible sigh of relief while I stifled tears of laughter. Oh my God. Dodged that bullet.
Now if only it’s that easy when we have to explain it to him at 13.