Too Much Information?

The Boy is a master at asking questions. From the moment he wakes up, to his head hitting the pillow, he asks questions.

The Boy: Mom, how did Auntie's babies come out?

Me: Since Auntie was sick, they delivered them quickly through a cut in her tummy.

The Boy: Did it hurt?

Me: No, they put her to sleep with medicine.

The Boy: Oh. How did they close it?

Me: Close what...

The Boy: The cut. Was it big?

Me: With stitches. I bet if you asked, Auntie will show you her scar.

The Boy: Is that how we came out?

Me: No, you came out my vagina.

The Boy: How does it come out of your itty bitty vagina? (He's never seen it, so I don't quite know why he thinks it's itty bitty...)

Me: It stretches. Alot.

The Boy: How much?

Me: Well... (using my hands to demonstrate) from about this much, to this much.

The Boy: COOL!

Sometimes the best conversations occur in the car, you just have to be open to them.

Today, I'm thankful for my inquisitive Boy, who makes me really think about the 'why' of the answer.