Asher has never been an inquisitive child. He’s never asked why the sky is blue or where milk comes from or why poop is brown. He’s never been that kid who follows every answer with “why? ” until you run out of answers – or patience - and throw your hands in the air and finally say, “BECAUSE!”
All of a sudden, our quiet little 5 year-old dispenses with the questions all day long. He’s clearly been saving them since the age of 2. “Why does that sign say ‘NO’?” “Will I be bigger than you?” “Is Mommy still on vacation?” “Why do birds suddenly appear...every time...you...” No, not really that last one.
A minor complication to having both Mom and Mommy at home is that Asher has two sources for information throughout the day, and we’ve come to realize that he has been asking us both the same questions. Not a big deal, right? The most recent question was, “Why does that smoke come out of the cars?” Well, Mommy (Gabriella) kept it simple. “The car uses gas, and when the gas burns, the smoke comes out of the exhaust pipe.” When I was asked the same question, I responded slightly differently. “You know how you eat food and drink water to give you energy? A car needs gas to have the energy to run. And you know how your body doesn’t need everything that you eat and drink so it gets rid of what you don’t need in your wee and poop? A car doesn’t need everything either, so it gets rid of the waste. The smoke is the waste. We flush our waste down the toilet, and the car’s waste is blown into the air which is not very good for the earth.” Of course, our flushed waste is not very good for the earth, either, but I chose to save that lesson for a later date.
Can you guess which mother Asher asked first? Yup, he asked me. He asked me, listened to what I had to say and was categorically unsatisfied with my blathering description of the inner workings of cars and their relationships to mammals and the world around them. Go figure. “What’s that smoke coming out of the car?” “Burning gas.” That’s all the boy wanted.
This morning, we hurried into the car to get to school. We weren’t late-it’s just f-ing freezing! I had started the car a few minutes before departure time to warm it up a bit. The smoke was blowing away when we arrived to at the side of the MV ready to climb aboard. “Do we need more gas, Mom?” “No, we’re good.” He didn’t ask if we were polluting the environment or if the car had enough energy to run. He didn’t liken the smoke to bodily waste. But he knew what smoke was, no thanks to Mom.
There are moments when I stand by my more complicated explanations. Bath time. Gabriella is giving Asher a bath, and I’m eavesdropping. “What are these?” “Those are your nipples.” “Does everyone have nipples?” “Yes.” “Are your nipples bigger than mine?” “Yes.” “Do girls have bigger nipples than boys?” “Yes.” “Are you a girl or a boy?” “A girl.” “What’s inside my willy?” “You’ll learn all about that in school. Now, get out of the tub before you get cold.”
I definitely would have made the distinction between nipples and breasts. Furthermore, she did not choose to explain that if you watch The Biggest Loser then you know that girls do NOT always have bigger breasts than boys. And I definitely would have told him that he’s got a urethra in his willy. But Gabriella is old-school. She’s peasant stock from the hills of Sicily and what you need to know, you’ll know some day-now shuddup you face!
There was one question that came without warning when we were all in the kitchen one day. Asher pointed to Gabriella’s tummy and asked, “Did I come out of your tummy or Mom’s?” Of course, we knew we’d have to field that question one day in addition to many others that will be much tougher to answer. But this was the first, and it came out of nowhere. I could feel her throat tighten. “Mom’s.” She whispered. She started to tear. But, that was it. There was no follow up question and there was no further explanation provided. Burning gas causes smoke. Mom carried Asher in her tummy. Next! Asher moved on to the next topic without skipping a beat.
We had to face the fact that now Asher was old enough to distinguish between his birth mother and non-bio mother. “He likes you better, anyway.” I told her because it’s true. Just wait until he can appreciate a dirty joke, though. And I think I can teach him a thing or two about the ladies (should he swing that way). Laugh if you will, but I didn’t do too badly, you’ll have to admit. “You knew it was coming, right?” “Of course. I just didn’t expect it to hit me that way.” She dabbed her eyes with a tissue, cleared her throat and shook it off.
It has been months since that particular inquiry was made. I’m absolutely sure it made no difference to Asher whatsoever, and I’m pretty confident that it never will. We should probably have some more answers at the ready for those questions we know are looming. And, I’d better research why poop is brown, too.
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