The Birds and the Bees, or My Kid Says Hilarious Stuff

I must record a few recent conversations for posterity.  One night last week, we were having one of our bedtime chats, when Monkey said, "I'm never going to have kids."  I was surprised to hear this, because he LOVES babies and little kids.  I said, "Really?  You don't want to be a Dad?" to which he responded, totally matter-of-factly, "Well, I have no idea how to breed!"  (He is thinking in terms of "breeding" because he's been playing a game called Dragon City where you collect dragons and breed them to make new dragons.)  I couldn't help laughing, and I told him not to worry, that he'd figure it out eventually.  I then reminded him that we've read It's Not the Stork! about where babies come from, and promised to re-read it with him soon.  At some point in the discussion, he said to me, "If you and Dad are gonna breed, make sure to tell me.  'Cause I might wake up in the night and... [grimace]" (which would seem to indicate that he understood at least a *little* about breeding).

Seriously, this book is fantastic.  It's a must-have for every household.

Fast-forward to this week.  We re-read It's Not the Stork.  Twice.  This was also Bug's first encounter with the book.  Both kids found it fascinating and kept interrupting to ask questions.  Both were especially fascinated by the umbilical cord and Monkey asked, "Wait.  If the cord gets cut when a baby is born, how can more babies be born later?"  (A good question, I thought.)  So I explained about placentas and how each kid gets a new one.  Overall, a fun and interesting read that prompted good discussion with no awkwardness or discomfort at all.  Next we moved on to read "You Are Stardust" which Monkey particularly enjoyed.

You Are Stardust, by Elin Kelsey

This prompted both boys to start reciting that every item in the room was made of stardust - "This pillow is made of stardust!" [giggles] "My elbow is made of stardust!" [giggles] "My toes are made of stardust!" [giggles]  "My penis is made of stardust!"  [huge giggles] and then Monkey looks at me and, mentally searching for the newly-learned word "vulva" and forgetting it, he exclaimed, "Your vagina-butt is made of stardust!"  I knew right away what he meant and we all dissolved in a fit of giggles.  I kept chuckling about that for the rest of the night.  So, ladies, if you need a mental picker-upper, just think about how your vagina-butt is made of stardust.  I dare you not to smile at that thought.

GREAT question!

So tonight at bedtime, Monkeyman & I were doing this thing we do, where we jokingly compete for who loves who more:

Monkey:  I love you!
Me:  I love you 7 times more than that!
Monkey: I love you 10 times more than that!
Me:  Well, I love you 35 times more than that!
Monkey:  Well, I love you 100 times more than that!
Me:  Oh yeah, well, I love you 1,000 times more than that!
Monkey: I love you 100,000 times more than that!
Me:  Well, I love you a million times more than that!
Monkey:  (pauses) Hey, what is the last number?

"Last number" meaning:  "What is the very highest number?" so he can use that to outdo me.  It just struck me as a really great question - I love the way his mind works.  I told him that there is no "last number" and explained the concept of infinity and he thought that was really cool.  "Oh, like on Toy Story, right?"  And I replied that yes, when Buzz Lightyear says "To Infinity and Beyond" he means "On and on, forever."

So that's our math lesson for the day - a review of the concepts of "greater than" and "infinity".  :)

Learning In the Middle of the Night

Late last night, we had a pretty loud thunderstorm. As Monkeyman has developed a moderate fear of thunderstorms, he immediately came running and crawled in bed with me.  (Bug slept through the whole thing without a peep.) So we laid there in the dark, snuggled closely, and had a long whispered conversation about how lightning and thunder work, and how the light travels faster than the sound. To illustrate I began counting one-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand and so on, from the flash until the arrival of the boom, to estimate how far away the storm was from us. About 15 miles was the fairly consistent result, and that seemed to help calm his fears a bit. A few minutes later we were still whispering and even giggling, and a few minutes after that... he drifted off to sleep.

There is something so lovely about being someone who is needed by a child for comfort, where just your physical presence and the sound of your voice close beside him can reassure him and make him feel safe. Of course, that same thought is also a little terrifying, because then you think - who would be there for him like this, if something were to happen to me? Becoming a parent makes you value yourself in a whole new way, and you acquire a self-protectiveness that you didn't previously have. But you quickly shove those thoughts far back in your mind and focus on the joy of the present moment where the world seems to consist only of the two of you in your little cocoon.

That is, until your poor husband comes in wanting to go to bed, and finds the boy sprawled across his spot. Sorry you were stuck on the couch last night, dear!

Bedtime chats are the greatest

We always have the most interesting whispered talks at bedtime. Last night's made me smile.

Max: Do you remember when I came out of your belly?
Me: Yes.
Max: I don't remember when I came out of your belly.
Me: It was my favorite day ever.
Max: When was it?
Me: February 27.
Max: Ohhh! *gears in head click* (he knows that's his birthday)
Max: Was it dark out?
Me: No. It was the middle of the afternoon. It was wintertime, but it was an unusually warm day and the sun was shining and there was a beautiful blue sky with white puffy clouds.
Max: Where were we?
Me: At the hospital.
Max: First you were a little baby, then you grew up, then I was in your belly.
Me: Yep, that's right.
Max: And Dad was before you. So I think you came out of Dad's belly.
Me: *stifling laughter* Ah, no. Babies only come out of girls' bellies. Babies don't come out of boys' bellies.
Max: Oh. Then where did you come from?
Me: I came from Grandma's belly.
Max: You mean your mom?
Me: Yes. And Daddy came from Gommy's belly.
Max: Ohhhhhh!
(I am a little relieved that it hasn't yet occurred to him to ask how we all got in the bellies to begin with. I'm sure it won't be long though...)

And tonight as I was putting him in bed: "I like Daddy better. And I like you super better. And I like Grandma super better. And I like everybody a whole lot."