“We are so tall. Look mummy,” said Boy Three, who then insisted on me taking a picture.
I’d have taken a picture of just about anything at that point because he’d been asking difficult questions.
“Is there a baby in your tummy?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“There just isn’t. And there isn’t going to be. You’re my baby.”
“When I was in your tummy, how did I get there?”
“Um.”
“Did you eat me?”
“No.”
“So how did I get there?”
“Daddy helped me make you. He helped put you there.”
“Oh. Did he make you eat me?”
“No.”
“So what did he do?”
“Erm… Well he just helped.”
“So do babies come out of your bottom?”
“Not really. They sometimes come out from underneath, but not your bottom.”
“But you only have a bottom underneath.”
“It’s not the only thing underneath.”
“You need to be careful having a baby – especially if it’s a brown one – that you don’t think it’s a poo. And it goes into the toilet.” Hysterical laughter.
“You don’t get having a baby and having a poo mixed up.”
“Mummy?”
“Yes.”
“Is a baby naked in your tummy?”
“Yes. Totally.”
More hysterical laughter.