The Awful Truth...Luncheon meat for Japan...

We were at the post office. Normally Isobel loves getting the mail with me, today however she didn't care to be there.
      Isobel: "How come I can't stay in the car?"
      Daddy: "You're not old enough, it's against the law."
      Isobel: "Why? It's not like a burglar is going to come along and rob me away."
      Daddy: "They might, you're cute enough. Lotta money for a cute little girl."
      Isobel: "What!!??!"
      Daddy: "Oh yes, you could get a lot of money indeed for a cute little girl."
      Isobel: "From who? Who pays for cute girls?"
      Daddy: "They Gypsies would pay a lot for a girl like you."
      Isobel: "Really?"
      Daddy: "Oh sure."
      Isobel: "Oh my god.I better come with you."
      Daddy: "You probably should, Pick."
      Isobel: "Daddy?"
      Daddy: "Yup?"
      Isobel: "When I die, will I turn into a Gypsy?"



      There are a few conversations that are coming down the pike that I am...dreading is too strong of a word...wary of let's say. Soon, the questions are going to come about how we all got here and other mysteries of the universe. I mean The Boy is eleven already and in health class...It really should have come as no surprise then.
      "Daddy, when we eat eggs, are we eating a baby chicken?" Izzy asked out of the blue.
      "Nope," I said. "Eggs aren't chickens, they're just for eating.
      "How does a chicken make an egg without making a baby chick?"
      'Oh shit', I thought. 'Is she asking what I think she is asking?'
      "Umm," I fumbled. "It's kind of hard to explain. Chickens lay eggs, that's just what they do. Whether they are going to make a baby chick or not."
      OK, so as an aside, it isn't hard to explain, even to a six year old. Not hard at all. But you can't very well start regaling your children with the poultry version of 'Behind the Green Door' and not scar them for life. Like the wicked witch said, 'These things must be done delicately.'
     "So the eggs we eat won't ever be baby chicks because unless an egg gets something from a rooster it just stays an egg."
    Simple enough, right?   WRONG.
      "What does it get from a rooster?" Isobel asked.
      "Umm...ah...Oh, OK. You know how you have to have a Mummy and a Daddy to have a baby?" I stuttered.
      "Yeah." she said slightly suspicious of what was to come next.
      "Same thing here." I said triumphant.
     I was certain I had given her enough information but had totally dodged the total childhood trauma bullet. Not quite yet.
       "What does the rooster do after he has given the chicken something? Does he sit on the egg?" she asked.
     "Roosters don't sit on eggs, chickens do that." I answered.
      "So what do roosters do when they are done, then?" she was getting frustrated.
      "Watch T.V. and drink beer." I said.
       "Oh," she said. "Wait, Daddy, they do not."
       "Sure they do, that's what Dads do. What do I do on the weekends?"
      "Roosters don't drink beer." she argued.
      "No, of course they don't. Roosters don't really do anything. They help make a chick and then they go off and do rooster type things...like drink beer and watch T.V."
       "Daddy...So they don't sit on the eggs?"
       "Nope," I said. "Not ever. As far as I know, only penguins do that."
      "Why?" she asked.
      "Why what?" I asked her.
      "Why do Daddy penguins sit on eggs and not Mummy penguins."
      "Because the Mummy penguins are lazy."
       "Really?" she asked.
       "No," I said. "Apparently, it takes so much energy for the Mummy penguin to make an egg, that she has no energy left to keep the egg warm enough so she goes off to find food to make her fat again. The Daddy penguin is nice and fat from..."
       "Wait, wait." she interrupted. "Don't tell me he's been drinking beer."
       "No, no honey," I pleaded. "For real, the Daddy penguin is fat because he hasn't done anything but eat while the Mummy penguin has been growing the egg. So he sits on the egg while she goes off to get lots and lots of food." (I was mostly guessing as to why Emperor penguin males sit on their eggs. Turns out this is pretty close to the truth of it)
    She had exhausted her line of questioning and I thought I had sufficiently answered her without causing too much irreparable damage. She wandered off to play and I'm certain, to mull all of this over. She came up upstairs later that night to speak with me.
      "Daddy, do you remember you told me about chickens and roosters and penguins?"
       "Of course Pick, it was two hours ago."
      "Yeah well you can forget me having a baby. No seriously, I'm not ever having a baby."
      Mission accomplished...who says subliminal messaging doesn't work...


      We were watching a program about alien life.
     "Daddy, did aliens used to be real?" she asked.
      "They didn't used to be real," I said. "As far as I'm concerned they are real."
      "Why do you say that?" Isobel asked.
      "OK," I started. "You know we have a sun, right?"
      "Yup."
      "And you know that our sun is a star and planets circle around it?"
      "Yup?"
       "And you know that there are millions of star with planets circling around them?"
       "Yup."
       "So do you think that we are the only one to have life?"
       "Of course not," she said. "Everyone has life."
        "Well, I don't think every one of them has life but I'm sure many of them do."
        "Everyone has life alright. Except Japan."
        "Excuse me?" I asked.
        "Japan. Japan doesn't have life anymore because of the salami."
         "Because of the what?" I asked.
         "You know, that big water thing that came into everybody's apartment and now they're all dead. Isn't that called a salami?" she asked.
        Sure, why not... She knew what she meant.