My son is extremely inquisitive. He asks a lot of “man” questions that end up with me responding, “go ask your Father,” because they’re anatomy-related, and I don’t know about boy stuff. And I am way too awkward to answer questions at 6am, such as, “Mom, what’s with this up-ness,” while he’s peeing.
Last night, completely out of the blue, Xander asked, “Mom? Where do babies come out of?”
This could go terribly wrong. I instantly began picturing Xander telling his friends all about the mysteries of childbirth. I could say they pop out of your belly button, but that is not factual. Chickens poop out eggs, but again, this does not pertain to humans. “What do you mean?” I’m stalling.
“You know. When people have babies? Which way do they come out?”
This I can answer. “head first.”
I pause. I wait for the follow-up question, that I’m sure will leave me with no choice but to properly answer the original question.
And just like that, crisis averted.
My 7-year-old is most likely picturing something along the lines of Athena emerging out of the head of Zeus.
I’ll take it.