My children are different. Very different.
Bennett is my thoughtful child. He truly wonders about things and asks great questions. Mostly - "Mom, isn't it great that you can drive? I'm not tall enough." or "Mom, isn't it interesting that that the TV turns on with a remote. I mean, how does that work?" Harrison is my to-the-point, overly-mature child. Me - "Harrison was is 4 x 3?" Harrison - "12" Me - What is 3 x 4?" Harrison - "Mom, I'm over that. Can we do something challenging?" Very little gets by him without a quick-witted response.
Case-in-point, on our way to Starbucks yesterday:
Bennett - Mom, isn't it weird that we were babies but now we are not. How does that happen?
Me - We eat good food and our body grows.
Bennett - Mom, how did you get me out of your belly?
Me - (Thinking, thinking, thinking) I pushed really hard.
Bennett - Oh. (Pause) (Pause) But where?
Me - (Shit!!! Why is this HAPPENING?!?!?!)
Harrison - It was her butt-hole. It's the only hole down there.
Me - (O.M.G!!!!) Umm, well... It was my vagina.
Bennett - (Deer-in-headlights-glossy-eyed-confused-stupor)
Harrison - Oh yeah. (Pause) But, like, it was probably still a pain in your butt.