Actually, I had a lengthy post all written up on an entirely different topic and Blogger ate it. I am too disgusted to re-write it right now so this is what I have to say instead.
Teena and I were sitting on what I will now refer to as "The Couch of Dreaded Subjects". Again, Genea had gone to bed and it was just her and I. Teena was worried about her Auntie and girl- cousin, because her Auntie is pregnant with her 3rd boy. Teena felt there should be more balance in their house and there could be trouble with all those boys. We are very much about Girl Power around here. I assured her that her Auntie and girl- cousin would be okay, and isn't it cool that Auntie is having another baby! She has a baby in her belly, growing in there!
I got cocky y'all, cocky. With the success of our last discussion about pee fingers, wherein I did not explode into tiny pieces of shrapnel piercing The Husbands girlfriend, also known as The Big Screen TV, I decided to do some follow up. Since we had established some basic anatomy.
I asked Teena what would turn out to be a super- dumb question. You know they say there are no stupid questions, it's only stupid to sit there and not ask your question, I've never believed that. There are plenty of stupid questions and plenty of people who should either have paid attention the first time, or kept quiet and looked for the information later, because they were going to drag the rest of us down for an hour.
It was sort of intended to see where her thought process was. What direction I should be taking conversations in the future. What should I be studying up on. You may wonder why it is I am harassing Teena with this, and not Genea. Quite frankly, I don't think Genea will believe me about anything to do with you- know- what. Teena may giggle and try to look mostly disinterested and sophisticated, but secretly will be curious. Genea will think I am playing a trick on her and there is nothing she hates more than being "tricked". Plus with their Auntie being pregnant I am anticipating someone will start having real questions soon.
So I asked Teena the question I thought was obvious. What she had to be wondering. To prompt our communication lines.
"Teena, how did that baby get in there?"
It was my attempt to provoke some conversation which I am starting to strongly believe I should leave to the professionals. She looked at me, and the expression on her face clearly showed she was praying. Dear Lord, she was asking in her mind, why hast thou forsaken me with this ridiculous dimwitted woman as a mother?
She said, "Mama, you should really ask someone.
Ask a teacher.
Or a doctor.
Or another mama. Another mama would know".
*snort*----- *giggle* Mmmmm, okay Teena, that's a good idea. Somehow, and I am not surprised, our lines of communication have come to resemble Teena's hair in the morning- tangled and twisted with knots all over.
The question then becomes, why am I still trying to do this when I have a dear friend who has a doctorate in neurobiology, is a college professor, and teaches THAT STUFF. She is so good at it, her kids have asked her to stop! That's right, she taught them so well they no longer have an interest in any of it! They don't want to hear about it anymore! Perfect!