A few days ago I was cleaning the bathtub downstairs. The Dictator was merrily playing outside on her scooter, and every once in awhile would come running inside for a drink of water before running as fast as she could right back outside again. On one of her trips inside she came running as fast as she could into the bathroom, threw her arms around me and said-
"I LOVE LOVE LOVE you Momma! I was thinking outside. Where do we come from?"
Uh....wait a minute here, random child of mine. What do you mean "Where do we come from?"
Me: "What do you mean where do we come from?" Well, what other question could I have asked?! Oh dear Lord, please don't let this go where I think it's going!
The Dictator: "Before we get in the Momma belly, where are we?"
Shit! Nope, not where I thought it was going! Worse!! Much worse!!!!
This could go so many directions of wrong. Since I'm just not ready to talk to my daughter about ovaries and testicles (she goes to preschool. She tells her teacher everything. In an effort to thwart CPS showing up, we are now asexual in this household), there's only one way this talk can go. Being for the most part agnostic, and the Politician being Confucian, I have dreaded this day since before I was pregnant. The God talk.
The Dictator is three. THREE! These are not the type of questions my barely three year old is supposed to ask me! What kind of preschooler asks these questions anyways? An evil one! An evil, tricky one, bent on the destruction of my sanity!
Me: "Well, where do YOU think we come from?" Oh yes.....the evil tricky child does not fall far from the evil tricky family tree. I will stop this conversation dead in it's tracks until I am ready for it. Like, when the Dictator is 35. Maybe.
The Dictator: "Why do you not want to tell me? I think you know the answer yourself. I want to hear your answer first, then mine."
FUCK! I've been outplayed.
Me: "Well, we come from storks. Yes! Storks carry us to our Mommy's. We are tiny little seeds and then we go inside a Mommy belly to grow!" Okay....this sounds somewhat plausible, no? I mean...we've talked about storks before and she's seen a few commercials on this subject. Yes...this could work!
The Dictator: "Well....where do the seeds come from?"
What?! The storks were supposed to distract your intently focused little psycho brain away from the baby portion of this conversation! Seeds?! What the hell was I even talking about?
Me: "Well, I don't know. I'm sorry. Maybe we can google it later? Or ask Daddy! He'll know!"
The Dictator: "Momma, obviously the seeds come from the garden. You are not taking this seriously. Momma, I really sure do you love you, but you really need to go back to school and learn more. I mean...what DO you know?"
Then she went back out on her scooter to play. I sat there next to the bathtub slack jawed and defeated!
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