We've come to that stage where Seba wants to know where babies come from. He's asked all kinds of questions that have been followed with a "no." Just as quickly as he asks, he moves on to the next topic:
"Do babies come from the sun?"
"No."
"Can I go swimming?"
"Ok. But only for an hour."
"Do babies get planted like a flower?"
"No."
"Can my friends come over?"
"Not today. On the weekend."
By far, the best one was a few weeks ago. We were in bed. Seba was supposed to be asleep. I was trying to get into 'relax' mode, leisurely going over some new magazines.
"Mommy, did you eat me with a fork and knife?"
"Of course not." (still reading my magazine)
"Then how did I get in your tummy?"
(I was tired and definately, not prepared for this. I figured the quickest way to end this conversation was with the God answer. You know, the 'God did it' reason. End of story.)
"God put you there. Now go to sleep."
(about two minutes later an obviously disturbed Seba sat up.)
"God? Who's this God guy? Do I know him?"
"Sebastian, it's late. I am tired and tomorrow is a school day. We'll talk about it tomorrow. Please go to bed."
(After this, I really couldn't read my magazine. Now I am cursing myself for not being the good Catholic and giving my son some religious instruction.)
"I am thirsty. I need a glass of water."
(I knew he wasn't thirsty. I knew he wasn't satisfied with my answer. Markku was working in the dining room)
"Papi, how did I get into mommy's tummy?"
(Here comes the pragmatic Lutheran answer...)
"I put you there. Go to bed."
