By Lorna B. Marlowe
When I was expecting my first baby, a
six-year-old girl from a few houses up the street was dying of curiosity about
it. She came in to see our baby
furniture, then asked what we would name him or her. Then she asked where the baby was, which
unfortunately was quite obvious even at only four months. But then she asked the big question that had
probably been on her mind right from the start:
“How did the baby get in there?”
“I think you had better ask your mother
about that,” I told her.
“I tried that, but it was no use,” she
responded. “Nobody in my family knows!”
Lorna B. Marlowe writes from Kirkersville,
Ohio.