I don't know why I wasn't paying attention, but I wasn't. I DID know that Gabi was playing in my closet and was being fantastically quiet.
Gabi: Mom, why do you have these underwear? They show your private parts!
I look over and she's holding up a pair of see-through underwear from back in my pre-kids days, when I actually did stuff to woo Gilberto.
Me: Ohhhhh. Yeah, it's probably why I don't wear them. I mean, who wants to wear SEE-THROUGH UNDERWEAR? Ha ha ha.
Gabi: Yeah, mommy! They must've gotten really worn out. Did you wear them a lot?
Me: Hey, look what you found! My shawl! Let's dress you up like a Spanish dancer!
I have the art of diversion DOWN.
Especially when it comes to the wonderful world of explaining reproduction to your child. Up until now I've gotten off easy, only having to explain about female parts and how the baby grows and gets out. But not any of the before stuff.
I knew the nitty gritty questions would be coming before too long. Cue last Monday. We were driving somewhere and I was lost in thought until BLAM.
Gabi: I've been thinking, why do you need a daddy to make a baby?
She's been thinking? Oh my God, DON'T PANIC! She needs you to be cool so that she doesn't think it's a big deal. Be cool, Laural. BE COOL.
Me: Well, you know how the mom has an egg? It needs to come together with a little piece of the dad called sperm. The dad gives the mom his sperm and when it touches the egg it makes it start to grow into a baby.
Ooo, that was good! But PLEASE, God, let that be enough to satisfy her.
Gabi: What's sperm?
Crap. How the hell do you explain sperm to a six year old? Okay, I can do this. Deep breathe, let it out. And THINK. THINK. Why can't I think?
Gabi: Mom! WHAT'S SPERM?
Me: Sperm look like little tadpoles! They like to swim like tadpoles, too, so that they can find the egg!
FAIL. Crappity crap. But maybe she'll start thinking about frogs and we can end this conversation.
Gabi: But, mom, how does the sperm get into the mommy?
Well there you go. She asked it. THE question. I may be a bad mom, but I just can't tell her about the whole penis-baby connection. Not today.
Me: Hey, there's a McDonald's! Do you want a Happy Meal? And how about some new shoes!
And, hallelujah, it worked.
I know I'm going to have to give her an answer, and apparently soon, so I guess I need to read a book. Or something. Like maybe I can get Grandma to take this one on.