Our baby turns four Jan. 12, the same day my mother and Aunt Kathy turn (much older than they'll ever be to any of us). This photo was taken when she was about a year and a half, just after we moved here. And in my mind I always see her this way, discovering the world for the first time every single day. The more my daughters grow, the wider the parallels between them become. Macy, our modern dancer who never misses the chance to sway to the rhythm of our lives; theatrics orchestrator who can demonstrate a surprise with more gusto than even the most seasoned actor; singer who creates long ballads for the entire house to enjoy as she sits for a while on the potty; Spanish goddess who enchants us with each roll of the tongue; toughman who bounces and rather than cry, gets mad and kicks the offender whether human or object; self-proclaimed (as dubbed by fellow pre-schooler) "kissy face" who has enough love to share with anyone around her; master cuddler who, no matter how late or early in the day, will wake up and wedge herself solidly between her mother and father; and braveheart who has enough moxy to ask the question everyone else is avoiding -- "how did you lose your arm and where can you get another one?" -- we admire how much you've grown and how as we have fostered you, you have raised us too. Never let go of 4-years-old my girl.
Claire, freshly nine, asked the million dollar question on our way home from work yesterday. You know, "how did you get pregnant with me?" So there we were, and there I was, driving across the Seven Mile Bridge after a loooong day of brain-straining wordsmithing, reminding myself before I opened my mouth (not my forte by the way) that I had but one chance to give an answer that would shape a future of womanhood. Be short, accurate and to-the-point, I said to myself. Be clinical while sparing the gory details and loving without being mushy. And I did. I offered the classic intro of "when a man and a woman love each other very much" and ended with the sperm fertilizing the egg (no it doesn't look like a chicken egg, we giggled) that begins to grow a baby. Next -- a long silence. But I was satisfied with my answer, being unprepared for the question and all (how do you cram for that one, or rather, have you been "cramming" for a long time but never had to scale it down to the elementary school level?) More silence. "That... is sooo... gross." More giggles. All was well with the world. Next question. Which was why women get periods. I explained that "funny you should ask" because it's all the same theme, and thank God we were almost home to keep from going to whatever topic was about to follow. And just like when she asked about the Chinese tradition of food-binding, I assume I'll print some info off of Wikipedia and let her study it as long or as short as she wishes. And touche, My Claire de Lune, may you hang onto nine for a very, very long time.
No comments:
Post a Comment