How Babies Are Made (*gulp*)

On the way home from school today, Jacob asked me, "Mom, are you happy that you made me?"

"Actually," I say, "happy isn't a big enough word for how happy I am that I made you. I'm much more than just happy. Are you happy that I made you?"

Jacob gave me an enthusiastic "Sure! Who else would I play the Slugbug Game with?"

I agreed, and we talked about how happy we were that we were a family. Still riding that emotional high, I asked him, "Are you happy that Daddy made you, too?"

Silence in the car. His silence because he knew that he didn't come from Daddy's tummy, my silence because I had just walked right into the worst possible conversation I could have stumbled into with him on a Friday afternoon.

"Daddy didn't make me," Jacob protested.

I stammered back, "Uh, well, uh, no, Daddy made you, too."

"How?" came the tiny, wondrous voice from the backseat. Oh, crap.

"Well, you see, um, I mean, it takes a mommy and a daddy to make a baby." Ohhhhhh, crap.

Nothing but thoughtful silence in the backseat. I start counting to myself, beads of sweat popping out on my forehead, one Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five ... until he responded with ...

"Slugbug blue. What are we having for dinner?"