OMG. Birds and Bees.

I just turned out the lights and left the girls in their bunks to ponder one of life's bigger questions.

They must be too, because it's quiet.  Like a stunned silence, I think.

It's hard to remember exactly what started the conversation, but I know it was about our skin and why it is the color it is.  Libby wanted to know why some people are super light brown, while others are super dark brown and everyone else falls somewhere in between.

I told them (and I'm sure I have this all wrong) that it has to do with the amount of *pigment we each have in our skin.  Those of us who are lighter have less pigment, while people with darker brown skin have more.  I told her that pigment is a chemical.  Or is it?  Or does it have to do with reflection of light?  See, I know nothing. Also, some of us have spots of pigment called freckles.  I remember Libby asking how someone with dark brown skin can also have freckles.  "Pigment."  I told her.

Then, when I should've maybe given them one more kiss goodnight and shut my mouth and left the room, I kept talking.  I remember it going something like this...

"The way our bodies grow and develop are similar to our parents.  If your parents have a certain skin color, yours might be similar to one, or both of them.  It has to do with genetics, what our parents pass on to us.  And genetics have to do with the millions of cells that make up our bodies.  Amazing, right?"

Have you ever heard that advice to "answer only what the child is asking.  Don't get all nervous and start rambling on about things they don't know that they don't know."?  Well, that's good advice, but to be honest I started talking and as I listened to what was coming out of my mouth, I just sounded so freaking smart.

Are you nervous?  Me too.

And with the next question Libby dropped I knew I was in serious trouble.  She said, "But when a baby is born, how can it look like the daddy when the it grew inside the mommy's belly?"

Let me tell you.  I don't know who nominates for the Oscars but if it's you, please put my name in.  I deserve one.  I was calm. composed. Scientific-ish. And it's not like I was worried about giving them too much information, or overwhelming them.  I was just trying to not laugh.  Because this topic is funny to me.  Really funny.  

So I explained to them that they have ovaries full of eggs.  All the eggs they'll ever have.  And when an egg joins together with a sperm a baby starts to grow.

And Libby says, "Yeah, but where does the sperm come from?"

(Poised and holding my Oscar) "It comes out of the daddy's penis."  

"The daddy's penis?! Yeah, but how does it get to the egg then?"

And I can't write here exactly what I said, but I can tell you it was the truth.  And what followed makes me reeeeeally believe in genetics.  She was horrified.  Confused. Taken aback, and wanting to laugh.  Laugh.  Which means she's sooooo mine.  This was all hysterical to her, and she blurted out, "BUT WHEN DO YOU GUYS DO THAT?!"  

Thank God I didn't elaborate.  I simply pointed to each of them and said, "When we had you and you."

Libby, who'd been propped up on her elbow flopped back on to her pillow and said, "I'm NEVER doing that.  I am NOT having a baby."  I liked her answer.  I think at five, I don't need to convince her otherwise.

Peyton, who'd been on the sidelines for most of the conversation, panicked and said, "But what if I don't want to have a baby, and one gets in my belly anyway and what if they have to cut me open to take it out?!"  

"Oy.  Cesarean Section.  Can we tackle that tomorrow, babe?  Mommy's tired."

*It turns out I'm not that smart.  Pigment wasn't at all the word I was looking for.  Melanin.  Melanin.  Jeez.  How am I going to break this news to them?  They'll probably think I made up everything.