Hard-To-Answer Questions

Yesterday I was rushing around trying to get dressed while Marta cried, "GO BYE-BYE!", because the child cannot stomach being at her own house for anything other than sleep (for which she MUST be in her own bed, and this is non-negotiable).

I tossed off my PJ pants and pulled on some jeans. Just before I buttoned and zipped, Berit said "STOP!" She needed to see my c-section scar (again). She's interested in the scar in a roundabout way, because it's a boo-boo, because it's next to a tattoo and is therefore doubly fascinating, and because Marta came out of it. She typically looks at it, then says "wow," and it's over.

Yesterday, though, she said, "That's how Dr. Joe took Marta out of your belly." I said, "Yup, you're right," and pulled on my jeans. She said, "And that's how I came out of your belly, too.

Um... "Nope. You came out a different way." (Tell her the truth, but only as much as she needs. Tell her the truth. Tell her the truth...)

"Where did I come out?"

"Well, you were in my belly, and then you came out."

"HOW?"

"Mommy and the doctors helped you come out."

"WHERE? Your belly?"

"You did come out of my belly."

"From your scar?"

"Noooo. From my... wee." (Yes. She calls her privates a wee.)

GIGGLEGIGGLEGIGGLEGIGGLEGIGGLE "Is that how all babies come out?"

"Yes. Either from a scar like this one, or from a mommy's wee."

"Huh. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Then, last night during prayers, she said, "I don't want to pray. Cinderella doesn't pray. Jane and Michael (Mary Poppins) don't pray."

Me: "They might pray in private. You just don't see them praying."

Her: "No, I would see it. They don't pray."

Me: "Well, maybe they do something different to thank God."

Her: "Mom, what's God?"

Two major questions in one day -- maybe she ate breakfast.