On Sex and Babies
I must have seen my sister in the shower that morning. Being 6, you’d think my next question would be “why don’t girl’s have a penis” But no, I hadn’t yet made the mental leap or maybe didn’t have the imagination to think otherwise. Instead of interrupting my mom’s peaceful and content state of mind, I interrupted the Monday morning at the bus stop with “where do girl’s have their penis?” It was a dirty question. One that my mom would rather not talk about. In fact she would go out of her way and invent elaborate stories about the origin of babies and the concept of sex so that she wouldn’t have to deal with the state of discomfort and obvious slew of followup questions that answering the simple question would elicit.
to the question, “where do babies come from?” the answer was “from praying. When a man a woman are married, and the mom prays a whole lot, she becomes pregnant” Despite being satisified for a few moments, it left great doubt in my mind as to my mom’s trustworthiness on the subject, or maybe lack of knowledge. It just didn’t make sense. I mean, how does this explain all the undwanted babies in the world? In my 6 years on the planet, I’d figured out that praying is not something you do to kill time.
My mom wouldn’t budge on answering. “You’re not supposed to ask questions like that.” To her, this must have been the longest 10 minute wait for my bus. Finally as the bus crept to a hault and I climbed aboard she whispered “No tienen”
“Waaaiiit” I wanted to run to the back of the bus and slam my hands on the window. “but I have so many more follow-up questions!”
to the question, “where do babies come from?” the answer was “from praying. When a man a woman are married, and the mom prays a whole lot, she becomes pregnant” Despite being satisified for a few moments, it left great doubt in my mind as to my mom’s trustworthiness on the subject, or maybe lack of knowledge. It just didn’t make sense. I mean, how does this explain all the undwanted babies in the world? In my 6 years on the planet, I’d figured out that praying is not something you do to kill time.
My mom wouldn’t budge on answering. “You’re not supposed to ask questions like that.” To her, this must have been the longest 10 minute wait for my bus. Finally as the bus crept to a hault and I climbed aboard she whispered “No tienen”
“Waaaiiit” I wanted to run to the back of the bus and slam my hands on the window. “but I have so many more follow-up questions!”