Teemings
The E-Zine of the Straight Dope Community

Questions, Questions, Questions

by Persephone

My daughter is five years old. She's cute, smart, funny, and very inquisitive. Seeing as how I'm not exactly the sharpest crayon in the box, her inquisitiveness tends to pose a few problems at times. However, I don't try to stifle (well, not too much, anyway) her natural curiosity. Kids' gotta learn, right?

One topic that keeps the questions coming is her body. I think these started when she was about 2, when she began potty training. Normal questions, of course, like "What is poop?" Answering that one was pretty easy. But it still didn't stop her from getting into her pull-up pants one day after she'd pooped, and finger-painting her bedroom wall with it. Cute little handprints, actually. Had they not been made from poop, I might have left them up.

She's also seen the quite obvious differences between boys and girls. Now, my brother and I were raised by parents who also did their best to give us a healthy self-image. They were not afraid or ashamed to let us see them naked, and they answered our questions just as honestly as my husband and I answer our children. This is good. But. Trying to teach sensitivity and respect for one's own body and the bodies of others is not as easy as my parents seemed to make it. Men have their stuff on the outside. Easy to reach. And even easier for a curious youngster to inflict pain upon, if Dad doesn't keep his guard up. That's happened here more than once, unfortunately. But she's learning. And so is my husband.

Then there's the inevitable questions about the differences between her own little-girl body and my grown-up body. Trying to explain why I shave my legs but Dad doesn't shave his was a little complicated, but not too bad, mostly because five-year-olds simply don't give a hoot about fashion or history. And I must admit, I was actually a little pleased when she noticed that my pubic hair was the same color as the hair on my head. Not only is she noticing that grown-up bodies are different than little-kid bodies, she's learning her colors, too.

But, every once in a while, she'll ask a perfectly normal question, and I will completely drop the ball.

A few days ago, I was taking a shower, and she decided to join me. Not a big deal--she's learning to appreciate the value of a nice, long shower too. When we were finished and towelling off, she pointed at my chest and said "Mama, when I'm a big girl, will my chest be big like yours?" "Yes, honey, it probably will," I replied. "Why?" she asked. "Well, because that's what happens sometimes. Some big girls have big chests," I answered. "No," she said. "I mean why do they get big? What are they for?" My answer? "I don't know, honey, they just do, I guess."

Now, you may be thinking that perhaps I felt she wasn't quite ready for the REAL answer, or I just didn't feel like going into a detailed explanation of female anatomy and it's various purposes. But that is not the case. No, not at all.

My reason for that answer? Well, my brain simply chose that moment to clear out it's history files. That's right. I said "I don't know" because at that particular moment, I honestly did not know. I had forgotten the original purpose of the female breast.

I've had this pair of breasts for 35 years now. I've given birth three times. While I've never actually used my breasts to do the job for which they were originally created, I sure as hell know WHY I've got them. Just in case, right? Like a bread knife or a lighter in your car. Nice to have, but you CAN use them for other things.

My daughter eventually got the correct answer, though, the next day. She was a bit puzzled at first, but then she caught on, and thought it was actually pretty cool. And of course, it led to more questions later on.

Just tonight, for instance. She ran across a baby picture of herself, and began commenting on how before she was born, she was a little teeny tiny baby inside my tummy, and when she was born, she came out of my mouth...

"Um, no, honey, babies don't come out of a mama's mouth."

"Oh, okay. Well, how do they get out, then?"

I may have temporarily forgotten what my breasts were intended for, but believe you me, I'll NEVER forget giving birth.

She got the right answer that time.