There she sat, her sweet angelic 5yr old face beautiful to look at. Her peaches and creme, flawless complexion helps with that angelic look. Then she speaks. Angels are chased away in a pouf of sound and you hear about the ideas and thoughts that are bouncing around beneath that beautiful head of honey colored hair.
"Did you know" she says "I'm pregnant". She sat beside her Poppy on the sofa and thankfully I was sitting down when she dropped this bomb shell. Quietly, I sat and waited for the questions that I knew would be forthcoming from her Poppy.
"Really?" he says "and what does that mean?" She slipped off the sofa to stand in front of him and said "See, my baby is here". She pats her stomach and we both wait for more information.
From her Poppy, "Then what happens?" She smiles, peeks through her lashes at him and says "It comes out my "fancy" and it hurts a lot and I bleed all over the place."
I do not participate in this conversation except to try to maintain a straight face. I imagine the conversation with her mother when she received all this information. Answers to her questions are given age appropriate. When her questions cease, her mother feels she has enough answers to satisfy her curiosity. I direct all creation questions to her mother.
I wonder about the part about "it hurts a lot". I suspect this was thrown in as a deterrent to be remembered at a later date, say around 16 yrs old.
This conversation finished, she requests some chocolate milk and skips off to check out her toy box.
We remained in our seats, eye contact made, silence unbroken while we digested all this new information so unexpectedly acquired.
Carrie, if nothing else is a day of entertainment.