Birds and bees
For the third time I was a father. A lovely
daughter was now at the hospital with my wonderfull wife. Every child birth is
an amazing experience and as a father, I´ve always recognized my responsibility
to teach my children about everything there is to life, even some of the more…
well… should we say the more intimite issues. That one conversation about the
birds and the bees has never been one I feared, but I´d have to admit, I didn´t
think it would be so soon coming.
We were on our way to greet the new baby. On
the back seat were my 4 year old son and his little sister, aged 2. They had
both been at my in-laws for the duration of the birth and even though they may
not have understood everything about pregnancy and giving birth, I am sure they
had the notion that something out of the ordinary was taking place. And so the
car was steaming with joy and excitement.
Suddenly the cosy nature of our being together
in the car was broken by my son, who had most likely been speculation a lot on
our way to the hospital.
"Daddy? Where did little sister get out?"
Complete and utter silence filled the car...
"Ehm," I said a little embarrassed,
pausing for as long as I could in the hope that he would quickly forget about
it again. He didn´t...
"Daddy?" he asked again, "I´m
asking you something..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know. I heard you…” My
brain was exploding with over time. How on earth could I squeeze my out of that
one? "I, ehm, I really have to, ehm, I really have to keep my focus on the
road and the cars on it, so…"
There were quite a bit of traffic, so for now
he accepted the feeble excuse without much further ado. Still, I had a feeling
that I wouldn´t be able to postpone the issue much further.
I was right, because shortly after he was
there with his question again… "There are no cars now, daddy… where did my
little sister come out?"
"Well… ehm, yeah, ehm… she, ehm, wel..
she came out the usual way, you know..."
I knew very well it wouldn´t do, men somehow I
thought to myself that a boy his age really didn´t need all those details...
"Yeah, but where?"
"Well, you know, it´s ehm," I tried
to pull time as best I could, "She, ehm, she came out… ehm, underneath,
you know..."
"Yeah, but where?"
I was sweating like a pig and the seat was
more and more gluing firmly to my shirt and skin, as I was fighting for my life
trying to figure out how to get out of this predicament. I mean, what ARE you
going to tell a kid only 4 years old about sex and birth and all of that?
I was fighting like crazy to come up with
something that could draw out time, so that he would forget about it and think
about other things. Things more appropriate for a kid his age, like playing
with Lego and that sort of stuff,but there were no help what so ever. Not
inside the car, not outside of it. If only I had bought him a teddy bear or a
book or something, anything to keep him occupied, but nooo, I had to save money
everywhere I could.
I really felt like an idiot. That´s when I saw
it, coming to the rescue. It towered up like a protecting castle among all
other buildings og behind the hedges you could just see a glimpse og the
parking lot. Phew, saved by the bell - well, the building, anyway.
"Right, kids, that´s the hospital," I
sighed with relief, "all we need to do now is to find a parking space and
then..."
"Then you can tell me!" the boy lit
up and interrupted me.
Darn! Once again the light son the first floor
in my head were flickering. I can´t believe, how stubborn that boy is! That´s
gotta be something he got from his mother´s side of the family. It was more
than difficult concentrating on the simple task of getting the car placed in
some sort of order within the two white lines. I was glad Linette wasn´t here
to witness my struggle with it. She would´ve lavhed her rear end off og and I
wouldn´t have heard the end of it. After all I usually tease her about not
being able to park the car in the streets.
"Yeah, yeah, take it easy, boy. First we
have to figure out the way to where your mum and sister are,” I said with the
ferris wheel in my head spinning like crazy.
On the way to the elevator I did what I could
to bring to the children´s attention all the magnificents you can experience at
a hospital. That is, after all, an important responsibility being a father,
that you teach your children about the world? Wheel chairs lined up like taxis
in an airport waiting for a new ride, doctors and nurses in white and of course
the most amazing and exciting magazine stand you´ve ever seen. But for some
strange reason none of it really made any difference. No matter what I did to
make concrete pillars, nurse bagdes and flower pots seem like the most
interesting things in the world, the boys answer was coming to me like a parrot
in a shop. "Yes, dad, but where did my sister come out?"
We found the elevator and I allowed him to
push the button. At leas the would have that to keep him busy, even if it was
only for a short while. An elderly lady stepped in there with us and pushed for
the thirteenth floor. Our destination was the sixteenth. She nodded her head
friendly towards the children and me.
"What lovely children you have,” she
smiled as the elevator started moving. If she only knew the hell, that kid
had been pulling me through, I thought to myself, men of course I didn´t
say anything.
"Are they your own?" she suddenly
asked, "Well, I probably shouldn´t ask, but these days parents are getting
older and older, so when you see such a fine young man with two children, you
really never know, do you?"
I suppose she was right. It was a bit unusual
having two, no three children at the age of 26 and 28.
"Yes, they are mine. We are on our way to
say hello to our new little sister," I responded and hoped in the bottom
of my heart, that the pending question of the boy could at least wait till we
left the elevator and the lady behind us.
But alas, I was terribly mistaken.
"Dad! " He was almost jumping up and
down like a mad man. "Please answer, I want to know!"
I did nothing and decided to pretend I didn´t
hear it. One thing was answering such an embarrassing question but answering it
in front of strangers was a completely different matter.
As it turned out, it was a bad choice, because
now the lady looked at me with an even bigger smile than before.
"So, we are a little impatient, are we? "
she said, "Well, I can certainly understand that. It´s not every day you
get to greet a new citizen in this world."
I was just about to give her some indifferent,
but polite answer, but the boy was much quicker.
"NO! " he yelled, "I want to
know now, dad!"
At first, the lady was taken by surprice at
this outburst, but then, for reason above my comprehension, she decided to lend
me a helping hand. Bending slightly forward towards the boy; as much as she
could without falling with cane and handbag and all; she saw him directly in
the eyes and asked the one question that would open the gate to everlasting
pain and embarrassment.
"Well, my little friend," she said,
"What is it you want to know?"
Oh, no! I quietly dreamed my way to the bottom
of a wooden box with the lid firmly fastened by nails and with a sign on it
saying: ”Caution, live animals” and another sign stating an address in
Timbuktu. Instead, I had to wake up right there at the front gate of hell to a
question demanding an answer here and now, before things got even more out of
hand.
"Alright! Alright!” I almost shouted,
”She got out of mums vagina, then! Are you satisfied now?”
It seemed as if time came to a complete halt
and the only sound you could hear was the lady´s mouth morphing from a big open
smile to the most sour chicken rump mouth I have ever witnessed.
The girl in my other hand suddenly woke up at
the sound of a word she recognized. She let go of my hand, pulled up in her
skirt and down went her diper and stockings all the way to her anckles.
"gina," she said while pointing to
her ”you-now-what” absolutely thrilled by recognition and smiling at the lady
as if she had just won the world championship in some popular sport.
Too much for the elderly lady she decided that
she wasn´t getting of at the thirteenth floor anyway. Instead, she jumped off
as the elevator stopped at the eleventh floor and the doors opened. With a
surprising agility she squeezed herself in between two mentally handicapped
men, who were cheering my daughter on clapping their hands and shouting
”hurray” apparently thinking she was very clever.
I kindly asked them if they could wait for the
next elevator and luckily they accepted with a smile and a ”have a nice day.”
As soon as the doors closed, I pulled up stockings and dipers and downed the
skirt.
During all of this my son hadn´t said
anything, but even though I didn´t see his face, I was struck by a hurricane of
his thoughts ramming into my brain stem about how hopeless his father was. And
then it came. Like a fist in my guts almost taking away my breath.
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