The Baby Place

Mamakat's Prompt:  4.) Are you feeling brave? Ask your child where babies come from and share their answers.

We were driving back from San Marcos, hoping to miss rush hour traffic on I-35.  Zane was quiet in the backseat, so I checked to make sure that he wasn't asleep.  Then I pounced.

"Zane, where do babies come from?"  I asked him.

"Wait--what the heck are you doing?" My husband's voice was a little alarmed; he wanted to look at me, but his natural caution wouldn't let him take his eyes off the road.  I patted his leg to reassure him, and repeated my question to our son.

"Babies come from The Baby Place," was Zane's response.  

"What is The Baby Place?"  I queried.

"Look," Zane used his Teacher Voice.  "You know...babies come from The Baby Place." 

"But what IS The Baby Place?" I insisted.  In my mind was the image of a giant, Walmart-sized store with row after row of squalling infants of all shapes, colors, and sizes.

Silence from the back seat.

"I don't know," Zane finally said.

"Well, at least that was an honest answer," Larry sounded relieved. 

"But Zane, you used to be a baby," I reminded him.  "Where did we get YOU from?" 

"Over there,"  Zane waved his hand toward a field of fresh, green, hay. 

"We got you from a field?"  I asked.

"Yes."

And that, as they say, was that.