I know. You’re awaiting quirky India trip anecdotes and I’m just being the bitch that holds out.
This is why no-one dated me for too long at Uni. Damn tease.
In the interim, this glorious conversation happened. The kind that makes you want to go drown yourself in a vat of rum and sleep for a week.
If I had to qualify myself as parent at all, I’d simply use the word Ill-prepared. (And occasionally/frequently neglectful, but ill-prepared just makes me sound absent-mindedly charming donchyathink, rather than incompetent.)
Ill-prepared is always how I end up feeling with Arvind’s questions – not because he is extra precocious or anything, but because I am an extra slow tortoise and just when I think I have another two years and time for a cup of tea, he will unfailingly sock me with it and leave me staggering. Everything in italics represents unarticulated thoughts happening in parallel. Yes, there is always a party in my head.
A: Mamma, did you know that girls have a baby hole?
MGM: EGADS! This? Now? Right after breakfast? Hmmm. I did know that in fact.
A: See, babies do not come out through where you pee. They come through the baby hole. There is ANOTHER ONE.
MGM: Son, I know. Tell me about ALL THAT WHACKED plumbing! (Switching to the “YAWWN. This is so boring” tactic) And? So?
A: So you have to show me yours.
MGM: WHA?? OMG! I certainly will not be doing that. So no. Like NEVER.
A: Why? I need to see it.
Of course, this kind of information warrants empirical evidence, I can see that.
MGM: Little boys cannot see their mother’s baby places.
A: Why? Has Pappa seen it?
MGM: Yes. But only a couple of times. Like on Christmas Day a couple of years ago. The baby place being a very secret place and all.
Dude, if that was a country, he would apply for citizenship. How is that for too much information since we are getting cuddly here?
A: So when can I see it?
Well, if you went to the kind of school I went to in my primary years, you could always find the girls who pulled down their panties for the lads to have a peek as long as you gave them a bob. But I’m guessing you don’t get that lucky here.
MGM: When you are all grown up and no longer live at home is an excellent time. And besides, in school, in some years they will teach you all about them baby places and their workings.
A: Will they show us pictures?
MGM: It’s school. Not the Playboy Mansion. So – no. Maybe a sketch or two.
A: Maybe you can draw it for me.
Dear God, please lead him to quality internet porn tasteful erotica at a mature and appropriate age so we never have to field these questions again. Thanks – and I will be owing you one.
MGM: No, but I can draw you a mean ass dinosaur. How about it?
And on that shaky note, that particular conversation was over.
To date, I have NO CLUE WHATSOEVER what he got out of it. A re-cap and summary of this conversation is most definitely not on the agenda, so I will live in bliss till the next awkward conversation comes up.
Or at least until some girl’s parents knock on my door and complain that my son has been checking out their daughter’s Vashiner.
Yes, folks. Vashiner.
I think my work here is done.