|
The Birds, the Bees, and My Big Red Face |
|
|
|
 It has happened already. My baby’s grown up. That she is two months shy
of six doesn’t matter. She now knows all about the birds and the bees.
It was a snowy Monday morning, and I was completely caught off guard.
My dear friend, whom I see all too little, extended a spontaneous
invitation to have me and the kids over for a cup of coffee and to
celebrate her two-year-old son’s birthday. We happily obliged despite
the blustry weather. The kids were glad to play with someone else’s
toys, and I was grateful to catch up with my friend.
Soon the children grew bored, having rifled through the toy box. They
discovered a doctor’s kit which Jackson, my three-year-old, happily
opened as he bandaged my “sore” finger. My daughter simultaneously
picked out a book from a series called “Why? What for? How Come?” The
books range from how firemen operate to what a barnyard looks like.
They deal with typical children’s questions such as where does the
fireman get water to put out fires to how do eggs hatch? I was fully
unprepared for my daughter’s question, “Where do babies come from?”
Right there in the middle of my friend’s kitchen floor with a fake
bandage and a curious Jackson lifting my shirt to listen to my
heartbeat with his plastic stethescope, I was confronted with the age
old question.
Sophia placed the book under my nose, lifting the flaps to the various
body parts and wanting to know every word the book provided. After
extricating myself from my son’s doctorly grasp, I sat down with my
almost six-year-old to look closer at the book. Several times, I
flipped to the back to see whether it was truly made for
kindergartners. The book seemed to divulge so many “secrets”, things I
didn’t learn until I actually had a child myself. I couldn’t believe
how incredibly detailed the book was, including descriptions of what
happens when Mommy and Daddy close the door at night.
For a brief moment, I wondered if I should skip parts of the book. Then
I realized there is no sense in keeping my child in the dark. I let her
ask the questions she wanted to, leaving no stone unturned as she
pointed to this picture or that one. I asked her questions in turn to
test her level of readiness to know. She seemed satisfied with my
reading most parts. She urged me to continue when I would come up for a
moment of air from reading. My friend, sensing the gravity of the
moment in its entirety, kept my son occupied for the whole time. It was
an unexpected moment of dialogue and discovery. Snuggled close to me on
my friend’s couch, my daughter has never felt closer to me than that
moment.
It is my intention to keep the dialogue going, at her pace and at her
will. I am so grateful to have opened a door at my daughter’s behest.
She truly is smarter than I ever will be. She challenged my comfort
zone today. I think I passed with flying colors.
 Christine Louise Hohlbaum
www.DiaryofaMother.com
American author of Diary of a Mother: Parenting Stories and Other Stuff
and SAHM I Am: Tales of a Stay-at-Home Mom in Europe (2005), has been
published in hundreds of publications.
|
Community 
