My brother is almost exactly three years younger than me. If you do the math my mom got pregnant when I was two.
When I was was two I asked my dad where babies came from and he told me.
In great detail.
My mother was mortified that my father told me about sex when I was two, but I never remember being surprised by any of it. Now my mom thinks it was great that he told me when I was too young to be completely grossed out.
When my kids were two I told them about sex – and periods – a c-sections. They seemed to be okay with all of it.
Then I discovered the downside of explaining great life lessons to two year olds.
Ian completely forgot.
I forget a lot of things (just ask my husband) but I did not forget the talk. I was traumatized when I had to explain to them that the doctor cut them out of me even though it didn’t seem to bother them at all.
So two nights ago when Ian almost slammed the toilet seat down on his penis I didn’t think twice about telling him to be careful because he only got one penis and he needed it to pee and to make babies.
He told me only girls made babies.
This is when I found myself sitting on the bathroom floor explaining that while, yes, babies grew in women’s utereuses (uteri? You don’t often find yourself needing to pluralize uterus) it was necessary for a man to put his penis in a woman’s vagina to make a baby.
He said “Gross.”
And then he said “Gross, gross, gross!”
Two days passed.
This morning he was putting on his underpants. He must have been thinking about his penis because he said. “Did Daddy have to put his penis in your vagina before we were born?”
I said yes.
And he said “Gross. I’m never having babies.”
And I am just grateful that he left it at that.
For today at least.