Where do babies comes from???

You know the question is inevitable, like gum finding its way to hair or pudding up the nose. Its a rite of passage and all children must discover these mysteries anew.

I knew one day, one of my children would ask this question and I thought I was prepared for it.

Here is the situation I had imagined, (note the perfect parenting):

Rebecca comes running in with her clean ribbons holding up her perfectly curled hair. She and Opie had been watching birds by the pond, and wanted to know what that silly mating dance was about. I laughed, and then sighed as I leaned back in my rocking chair and adjusted the lapels on my silk, smoking jacket. With a smile on my face and a twinkle in my eye I spewed wise, age-old euphamisms about reproduction and creation. I explained the mysteries of life simply enough for a child to understand, but with enough sophistication to use the correct anatomical jargon. The conversation flowed easily, words like cervix, uterus and fallopian tube landing elegantly in graceful, poetic sentences. After the children had their curiousity satiated, we all went into the kitchen for fresh apple pie that Aunt Bee just took out of the oven.

Now here's what really happened:

We were in the car, rushing home from the library. I was hurriedly thinking about what I could whip up for supper and pretty much ignoring all the babble from the backseat. In mid-conversation, Rebecca pipes up, "Mom, when mommies have babies, how do the babies get out of their tummies?"
I was stunned out of my distracted stupor, and was speechless as I racked my brain for an appropriate answer to this question. D.J. noticing my uncomfortable silence, began to laugh making me feel even more pressure to come up with something brilliant. The only thing that came out was a muffled, "they just do, they come out when they are ready."
Rebecca continued, "Well, how? How do they get out, do they make a hole?"
With all the wisdom, maturity and sophistication I could muster, I said, "Yup, kind-a, something like that."

The good thing about parenting is that kids are so resilient, and maliable. I may have missed a "teachable moment" (which is bad) but I can always gather my thoughts and come back to it (which is great). Hopefully the opportunity to pass on some valuable wisdom is not lost forever, in the momentary interest of the three year old mind. And if I get it wrong, the worst-case scenario is a phone-call home from a horrified biology teacher in about 13 years!