Sunday, November 28, 2010


It is inevitable that children are going to be curious about where babies come from. I have never filled my childrens' heads with fairy tales of birds and bees or the stork. I delivered 5 children so I think I am more than qualified to define where babies came from and let me tell you, there were no buzzing bees happily pollinating flowers with their little pollen sacks or a long necked stork with a train conductor's hat flapping around. 

Nor did I feel the need to complicate things with the actual physical recipe. I kept it simple.

Babies come from kissing.

There may be different circumstances each time, but it all starts with a kiss, every single time.  Then nine weight laden, increasingly uncomfortable months later, after pushing and panting for ions, the mother, not some stupid long necked, long legged bird, delivers a splotchy, slimy, purple skinned, screaming baby, leaving to wonder how it was possible that she had just squeezed something that ginormous out from an orifice in her body.

And if anyone is wondering, God is a male, because a female would never have blessed female kind with a menstrual cycle or the business end of conception.