When you have three sons you have to make rules like:
“No balls in the house…unless they’re in your pants.”
Well, this backfired on me and turned into a “where do babies come from?” discussion. Did I mention it all happened while we were walking out the door for school? Let me set this up so you can see how badly I was stuck.
The scene: All three boys (ages 10, 8, 4) going through the usual routine of “I can’t find my shoes/backpack/hoodie” dance. Sprinkle in a little “Do I really have to go to school today?” all squished between the kitchen, mudroom and the tiny hall where we are all trying to squeeze out to the garage.
My middle son, ever the smart aleck, says “Mom, you know your rule about no balls in the house unless they’re in your pants? Well, Bro (the new kitten) has balls and doesn’t wear pants.”
Now listen carefully to where I royally screwed up.
Me: “The kitten doesn’t have balls.”
I start to realize the hole I’ve dug for myself at this point.
Me: “Because he and our dogs had a surgery so they can’t have babies. Remember all those animals at the humane society without homes? It’s so there aren’t more unwanted pets.”
Nailed it! Crisis averted…oh no. Youngest is crying.
Youngest: “I want Bro to be a daddy!” said with huge, crocodile tears.
Middle: “But why do the boys need surgeries? They don’t have babies.”
Tread lightly; we’re already late to school. Don’t start big discussion.
Me: “Umm…because you need a mommy AND a daddy to be parents.”
At this point the Oldest, who is always running late, comes around the corner with a smirk on his face. I think he maybe understands the birds and the bees more than I want him to. Oh great. I give him a look to ‘stay out of it. Please don’t make this worse. Mommy’s dug a big hole that she’s desperately trying to get out of.’
Youngest: “But I want baby kitties and puppies.” (He’s crying hysterically at this point.)
Middle: “Mom, only Lola (our girl dog) can have babies, right? Then why do Bro and Jasper (kitten & male dog) need to take the balls out?”
Me: “You’ll understand when you’re older.”
Please just get in the car!
Youngest: “Mommy, why will they take my balls out?!!”
I’m panicked at this point.
Me: “Oh, Sweetie! Nobody’s going to take your balls out. I promise!”
Youngest: “Good, because I want to be a daddy.”
Me: “Good, because I want to be a grandma someday.”
Middle still has a puzzled look on his face as I rush them all out to the garage and into the car. Oldest is still smirking at me.
Don’t even begin to ask about the time when I told them to stop junk-punching each other because I want to be a grandma someday. I know! I should have known better!
About the Author:
Heather Guess Kemp is a writer living in the beautiful Colorado Rockies with her husband, three sons and three fur babies. Blogging has been a great way for her to explore and share her many interests. Her articles have been featured on Colorado Moms, in ELIFE Magazine and on the site Mommy Drinks Wine and Swears where she is also a contributing editor. Email her at Heather@TwiddlingMyThumbs.com (For more about me…click here.)