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Where did I come from?

Riding on It’s a Small World was the last place I expected to have our first conversation about the birds and the bees.

Sean pointed to the round-faced gondolier in the sparkling Disney version of Venice, and told Axel that he’d been to Italy.  When I was about four months pregnant with Axel, Sean and I took a trip to visit my brother and his wife, who were living in Naples at the time.

“I’ve been to Italy!” Axel shouted.  “When I was in your tummy!”

“Yup, that’s right.”

“Then you covered me with dough!”

“Ummm, what?”

“You made me!  With dough.”

“Not exactly.”

“How did you make me?”

Sean and I exchanged looks.  Craft supplies are not usually involved in the making of babies, though I did briefly consider saying babies are made with Shrinky Dinks, lots of sequins, and a hot glue gun.

The little dolls kept bobbing their heads and kicking their stiff legs as the tinkling song played on, and on and on and on.  Jonas clapped and bobbed his head from side to side – the kid will dance to anything, from a commercial’s jingle to AC/DC.  The boat moved on to France and Hawaii.

It didn’t really seem like the place to have The Talk About Where Babies Come From.  So I fell back on one of those old, dependable parenting cliches.

“We loved each other so much that we had you and Jonas.”

Followed, very very quickly, by distraction.

“Look, hula dancers!  You’ve been to Hawaii!  Hey, let’s go get some churros after this ride!”

“Yum!”

We dodged that one.  Barely.

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