These Here are Scary Times

Yesterday morning, the kid climbed into my lap just before she had to leave for preschool with her father. I was in the office-slash-guest-bedroom catching up on a few emails before I had to leave, too. She looked up at a round, black clock that's been on the wall in there forever. It's got a red cat's face in the middle and in place of the numbers are the words "nap play eat" repeated around the perimeter. (It is also ticks louder than artillery fire, which does seem to keep visitors from staying too long. A few have been known to take the batteries out. One overnight guest simply took it off the wall and exiled it to the dining room.)

"That clock has a cat on it!" A exclaimed. I guess it took her 3+ years to notice it. "Yes, your Aunt Craggy bought me that clock a long time ago," I said. "Before you were born."

And then she said it. "When I was born in your tummy?" My heart fluttered and tears sprang to my eyes. She didn't really seem to expect a response, so I pulled her in for a hug and didn't say anything. She hopped off my lap and tucked Teddy under her arm. "Bye, Mama!"

I quietly told P what she had said and told him that I guess the time has come. She is starting to understand, it seems, that babies don't just magically appear in one's home. Oh, but that they did!

I imagine that we will sit down with her soon and give a high-level overview of how she came to be. I don't believe she has any inkling that this baby-making thing involves a second party, so I think we'll just leave that out for now.

How how how do we explain our love for her in such a way that she never doubts it for one second her entire life through? That she was never abandoned, not even for a moment, and that she passed straight into our arms when she was born? That she is all we ever wanted?