The birds and the bees at age 3

How many 3 year old boys obsess over the contents of their mother's uterus?

Just mine?

That's what I thought.

For months conversations with Paxton are sprinkled with "....and we need to buy a new baby..."  You haven't lived until your child asks strangers if we can buy their baby.  {{Yes, strangers. Plural.}}  In case you were wondering, listening to your child tell his grandparents via Skype that "there's a baby in Mommy's tummy!!" while you're in the other room gives the world's worst adrenaline rush.  It also makes for an awkward follow-up conversation.  To make matters worse, he created a song about a new baby, which includes awkward dancing:

Sometimes you need a new baby.

You NEED a new baby.

You need to get one.

I don't like that baby (pointing to his brother)

We need a new baby.

Sometimes you need a new baby!

Because....

Sometimes you need a new baby!

And then praying for a "new baby in Mommy tummy" ensued.  I realized I had to reel in his imagination and set the record straight.  I kindly told him there isn't a baby in my tummy.  That's when THE question came and with it took my breath away.

"...But HOW a baby get in there?"

This was new parenting territory and one I wasn't ready for.  He was waiting for an answer. Patiently, for once. How could my baby be asking this. ALREADY?! My hands started to sweat.  I felt the blood drain out of my face. I was caught off guard. Unprepared.  Fortunately, and unfortunately Rod was home.

First we tried to settle it with a, "Mommy and Daddy ask Jesus to help put a baby from heaven in Mommy's tummy".  His curiosity wasn't satisfied.  "BUT HOOOOOWWW it get in there?"

I glared at Rodney, expecting him to say something I wasn't ready for my precious 3 year old to hear.  I whispered to Rod, "I've got this. I'll say big words and confuse him and he'll loose interest. I think I remember hearing this was a good idea. Watch."

Me: "Well, mama has a uterus and fallopian tubes... and I ovulate...

I could feel Rod's bewildered face eying me down.

Me:"....kinda like a chicken lays an egg..."

In my peripheral vision I watched my husband's head hang in shame. He didn't have to say a word. I knew that I--his wife of nearly 6 years-- was giving him every reason to doubt his decision to procreate with me. His body language spoke a thousand words, including: She cannot be serious right now. A chicken?!

Me: "Yeah, umm, mama lays an egg. And daddy plants a seed and...."

Rod: "....no. That's wrong. I don't plant the seed. Mama already has the seed. I fertilize the...."

Me: "Rodney, you're making me nervous..."

Rod: "But I don't plant a seed. That's not accurate. I help the seed to grow into a baby."

Me: "So mama's egg becomes a baby! Yay!! Do you want ice-cream?"

Most nerve-wracking 2 minutes of my life!   I pray his curiosity will be satisfied. May he not ask how Daddy fertilizes Mama's egg.  And for the love of everything holy, may he STOP telling people there is a baby in my belly!