Pooping Out Babies . . .

It all started with one particularly memorable conversation.

"Mom, do ladies just poop out babies?"  Ethan asked after watching a commercial for TLC's A Baby Story. 

"Poop them out?! What? NO!"  I stammered quickly.  When I recovered, my curiosity got the best of me and I asked, "Why would you think that ladies pooped out babies anyway?"

He rolled his little seven year old eyes at me and slowly, and a bit impatiently explained, "Well, on TV the ladies get all scrunched up and pull on their legs and then grunt like they are pooping a really BIG poop."

Aha! (If only he knew how closely labor resembled a really BIG poop, but I digress. . .)

I went on to explain that ladies were specially made to have babies, and then for further clarification, I added, "Ladies have one hole that is ONLY for pooping, one hole that is ONLY for peeing, and one hole that is called a vagina that is made ONLY to have babies."

And since at seven I didn't think that he needed to know how babies actually came to be using THAT same baby hole, I ended the conversation there.  He seemed content with his new knowledge.

This morning, however, it became clear that I needed to go over Ethan's new vocabulary, yet again.  The conversation revolved around a friend of ours that had just delivered a baby.  Not wanting to be left out, Ethan smiled his jack-o-latern grin, nodded knowingly, and piped in his two cents, ". . .And . . . the baby came right out of her baby shooting hole!"

Yes.

I am so proud.

. . . Only if He Shares His Manolos!



These manolo blahnik leopard peep toes were found at gignoelleeventplanner.com.  Aren't they gorge????



As I leaned over to tie my tennis shoes, I noticed that I had forgotten to shave my legs, yet again.

"Will one of you guys PLEASE remind me to shave my legs?"  I said to none of the kiddies in particular.

Ethan, of course, piped up. 

"No problem mom, " and then he added, "oh, by the way, I shaved my legs."

I stopped my tying and looked at him.

"You did what?"

 "I shaved. . . with the razor in the shower."

"Ethan!" I screeched, "For the love of god . . .Why?!?!"

He looked at me innocently and answered,  "What?  Am I not supposed to do that?"  I stared at him with my mouth open while he finished, "And . . . my legs WERE hairy."

Sigh.

I fear that someday in my future I may have a son that comes to me and says that he likes to wear heels.

Which, of course, I will be OK with . . . as long as he lets me share his manolos.

Chatty Cathy Lives Again

After preschool yesterday, Ellerie explained how things work in her classroom.

"You have to raise your hand quietly and go like this." She put her right hand in the air and then put her index finger of her left hand over her closed lips to indicate quiet.  "Then, you get to be the one that picks the song for song time."

"Oh," I answered.  Then I thought for a moment and followed up with one question.  "So Ellerie, have YOU ever gotten to choose the song for song time?"

She smiled and replied, "Nope!"

Classic.

Chatty Cathy lives again.

It is going to be a long road to graduation.