When I was about seven, I asked my mum where babies came from. Mum having been a nurse and all, plus me being the oldest of four kids, I knew we came out of her belly (and even had the opportunity to listen in with her stethoscope when she was pregnant with my sibs) – plus, duh, that baby bump is pretty hard to miss, especially on a woman as tiny as my mum. But I wanted to know how the heck they got in there. During our initial chat, she gave me this whole spiel about the flower which, while very interesting from a botanical perspective – and even quite poetic and lyrical – was confusing as all hell.
For about a year, I thought I was a Chrysanthemum. So I went back and asked her how all that flower stuff worked with people – only to be shocked and appalled at what people did to make babies. He puts what where?!
Here’s the book she used – complete with illustrated diagrams – good for a laugh, especially when my British friend Cecilia reads it aloud: The Story of Life by Ellis W. Whiting.