I had “the talk” with DQ a few weeks ago. Aside from my constant need to swallow my own vomit because I was so nervous, it went surprisingly well. She had been hearing a few things at school that prompted Pip and I to tell her the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It’s pretty sad, I think, when you have to worry about your 3rd grader’s male classmate telling her how he had a dream that they were naked in bed together.
So baby making was spelled out clearly and the lines of communication were opened up. It was… not as bad as I thought it would be. Whew.
Fast forward to last Friday. There was no school, so DQ, TM and I went to the zoo with a group of friends. At our zoo they have a small aquarium and in said aquarium they have seahorses. Who doesn’t love seahorses? They’re so unique. DQ, with her face pressed against the glass, watches the seahorses with rapt attention. After a moment she turns around and squeals with delight, “Mama, the sea horses are dancing! Look! That means they’re going to have babies!” I have to tell you, my first thought was that “the talk” that I gave her was a miserable failure. I mean, really?! All that stress and swallowing vomit and you think it’s through dancing? And then the realization. NOOOO! My mother was right?! Dancing leads to babies?! What?
She informed me that she read a book about seahorses. When the female seahorse wants to have babies, she hooks tails and dances with the male. She concludes this dance by giving the male all her eggs, whereupon he fertilizes and carries the eggs for her until they are ready to hatch. So interesting. I wish it was the same for humans. Well…maybe not. I enjoy dancing occasionally (those within eyeshot do not) and the implications here are distressing.