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Mr. Whipple?
by Tammy Harrison
Every single night for the past ten months,
my middle daughter Cristen has closed out
her evening prayers with "And, thank
you God for helping mommy get Grace out of
her tummy." And, after spending a few
days over the holiday with her cousin, she
has added thanks for helping his mommy get
him out of her tummy.
We have always thanked her for thinking of
such things, and do not think much more
about it.
Dear Santa delivered a new baby doll to
Cristen--just what she wanted! She has fed
the baby, played with her, talked to her and
carried her around just like the real thing.
She asked me for diapers for her the other
day, and I have spent countless hours
burping the new addition to our family.
As I sat here in my office a few days ago,
the kids were playing 'house' nearby. I
truly enjoy just listening to their play, as
I not only get to hear what I sound like to
them, but I also get a feel for where they
are in their developmental stages of life
and their imaginations.
Next thing I hear Cristen say to her big
sister is, "Now, you go over there and
lay down on the sofa and poop this baby out
of your bottom."
I laughed, spitting whatever soda I had just
drank all over myself. I fell out of my
chair as I stumbled to the living room to
make sure the patient was alright. Then I
had to do what moms and dads wait for, I had
to explain where babies come from!
With a six-, four- and two-year-old looking
at me with inquisitive eyes, I tried my very
best to give them what they needed to hear
without going into too much detail (that
would be repeated on their playgrounds).
With some new anatomically-correct paper
dolls they had received as gifts, I showed
what any mom shows to children so young --
that boys and girls are different! Then, I
explained that we preferred that they be
adults before having children and that it
takes someone very special to be a mommy. I
need not explain the intricate details of my
conversation with them, except to say that
my son could have cared less what I was
talking about because he was the *dad* and
his new train was much more important; our
oldest daughter had a few questions that I
answered; and Miss Cristen just let it all
sink in without saying a thing.
Without thinking twice, I went back to my
office and the girls went upstairs to play
in their room--and was quite smug in the
fact that they now knew how babies are born.
Then I heard little feet running down the
stairs and tearing through the house. As I
turned around, I saw a little girl run back
up the stairs, tightly squeezing a roll of
toilet paper while trailing a few feet of
squares behind her, as she loudly exclaimed
that "the baby is coming, the baby is
coming'!
(c) 2003 by Tammy Harrison. Tammy is
the mother of four and the Independent
Creative Representative for HBWM.com,
Inc. Click
here to contact Tammy.
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