Anatomy 101

Mar Dec. 2005
Originally uploaded by The McCracken Family.

This is my kid, Wee One. She's 5.

Yesterday in the car on our way to lunch, my parenting skills were tested. How did my parenting skills fare? Yeah, not so good.

Here's the proof:

Wee One asked in all her kindergarteney goodness how babies get out of their mamas.

I immediately got the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach — she had asked me this question before but I artfully dodged the question by giving her a cookie or some money or something.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not a prude. I want her to know the facts of human reproduction. The problem is that it's all so interlaced with sex. And, well, I just don't enjoy talking about sex with children. There's really no fun in it at all.

First I tried to figure out how I could again dodge the question, but realized that short of diving out of the moving vehicle, I was going to have to be an adult and speak frankly about human reproduction.

Then I quickly surmised that despite my 30-something years, I’m still far from being an adult and had to come up with another plan.

I decided to go for the lame parenting technique of copping out.

I made the following vague statement, "Babies comes out of the mamas bottom." "Bottom" being the cop-out word I use to describe anything covered by one's underwear.

But in defense of my juvenile treatment of the female reproductive and excretory organs, I learned to refer to "those" parts as the generic "bottom" while in the hospital after Wee One was born ... so I'm not the only one who doesn't like throwing around the words "vagina" and "anus."

So, I explained the miracle of birth by saying that babies come out of their mama’s bottoms.

Wee One wasn’t satisfied and incredulously asked, “They pee out the baby?”

Her deranged sense of humor caused her to laugh at her own question, which caused Uber-husband to snicker.

I immediately realized the utter stupidity of my statement, thereby causing me to join in the gigglefest.

Uber-husband in a desperate attempt to help me through this parenting debacle, tried to explain that babies come out of another place.

Wee One, being bright and inquisitive, began peppering us with questions, “Oh, you mean the fuh-gina? Where is the fuh-gina? Is it next to my little weenie?”

Yeah, the fuh-gina is next to the little weenie. That’s what they teach in anatomy class, right?