A long time ago (before I got pregnant with Baby who is almost two) I explained the “birds and the bees” to Older. He had been building up to the details with question after question (sparked by an initial question as to why the chicken eggs that we eat will never grow into baby chicks). So I bought the book and answered all of his questions. We talked about everything. He asked about if babies were ever accidents, he wanted to know if there was any way to prevent such accidents. Ev-er-y-thing. I used the word “sex” a few times but he thought it was a stupid word and called the act “the special hug” instead. All this information came in very useful when a couple of months later I was pregnant with Baby. He was pleased that he knew what was going on, but was disappointed that we had “already done that part where the pieces [egg and sperm] come together” without him seeing. Oops. Must have forgotten to mention to him that the “special hug” is a private affair.
Fast forward two years: last night I was sitting on the couch, catching my breath for a minute, before heading off to my anatomy class. When it was time for me to go I reached out a hand to Husband so he could pull up off the couch; in the process I gave him a little hug. Older, who had been sitting next to me, looked at me with the look of “I am in on this joke!” and gave a little giggle. I couldn’t see anything that might have amused him so I asked why he was smiling. “Oh, you know”, he said conspiratorially. “I really don’t know”, I replied. He then lowered his voice to tell me “I thought you and Daddy might be about to give each other that special hug…you know, to make a baby. I saw you hug each other in the kitchen the other day and I knew what you were doing. You are thinking about having another baby. I’m right, aren’t I?” It took every ounce of self control not to burst out laughing as I told him that no, we weren’t trying to have another baby. Those were just regular hugs. Clearly he needs a little refresher course before he’s a teenager.