That is the death part...now for the birth. Upon deciding to go for ice cream, I piled into the SUV with Jack, Megan, Grandma, Bampa and Nana. So mind you, we are all piled into this metal box from which we cannot escape until we get to the ice cream store. As we drive by the hospital where Jack was born, I point it out and say, "Jack, that is where you were born!". Megan chimes in on the discussion with, "How do babies get out of the Mom's tummy anyway?". Uh oh. She's six so I figured this question would pop up sooner or later but I was hoping for later and had it visualized a bit different in my head. You know, one night as I'm tucking her into bed, she would look at me sweetly and ask where babies come from. Then I would provide her with the canned response I had planned for months that was acurate without being too clinical... Oh wait... I DON'T HAVE A PLANNED RESPONSE!!! My visual of the situation stops with me saying, "well honey...". So what I did say was "Um, er, um, well, there is a special hole where babies come out.". And I hoped for the best at this point and by best, I mean that she would say, "Oh, ok" and leave it at that. But noooo, then came the flood of questions. "What hole?" "Where is the hole?" "Is it by the rear end?" "Is the hole by the ear?"
So I did what any good mother would do since she was in the far back of the SUV. I pretened not to hear her questions. And what do you know! There we were at the ice cream store! Problem solved and I've got some extra time now to really plan my canned, not too clinical response!