Dad’s view

When our eldest, Rosie, was two, she asked, out of the blue, ‘Where do babies come from?’

My wife and I had discussed what we might do in that situation, thinking that we’d be honest with her and answer all her queries about life as and when she asked them, it’s just that we didn’t expect her to be asking that question quite so early.   Where does Dorothy the Dinosaur go when the telly’s turned off yes, but where do babies come from? Not yet thanks.

In retrospect, however, we should have been better prepared. Cait was pregnant with our second child at the time which should have alerted us to the fact that such a line of questioning might be in the offing – especially as Rosie was very interested in the baby in mummy’s tummy. But it didn’t.

There stood I and there stood Cait, and there stood Rosie patiently waiting for an answer. But which answer? 

Without necessarily intending to, but with the firm belief that truth was the best policy, and led by Rosie’s thirst for knowledge we stumbled through the truth about where babies come from. We told it simply, honestly and with love, but also with a certain trepidation, wondering whether we were doing the right thing.

For a while afterwards we watched and we observed, but much to our relief the roof didn’t cave in, and nor has Rosie (who’s now going on seven). She accepted the truth about where babies come from in the same phlegmatic manner that she accepted her own discovery that Dorothy the Dinosaur was just a bloke in a suit. She hasn’t made a fuss of it since, and maybe she never will, maybe it’ll always just be something that is known to her: interesting, but not taboo, not tainted, or somehow not for discussion.

Here’s the troublesome bit though: She still believes in fairies and Father Christmas, and I am in no hurry to change that. She occasionally asks me if they’re real, and I keep saying yes, but I can tell by the way she asks, and the way she receives my answers, that she’s not totally convinced anymore. She’s looking for me to lead the way, sensing that there’s something more to the situation than I’m letting on, but this time I don’t want her to know the truth.

Why am I so keen for her to maintain her innocence in terms of make believe when I was happy for her to know the facts of life at an early age?

Sometimes, as I answer her fairy-related questions I remember our facts of life discussion of years before. Had I spoiled her innocence then? Is it wrong to be uneven with the truth, to preserve one story and dispense with another? I don’t know.

I know (I hope) that her understanding of where babies come from hasn’t changed her. She isn’t freaked out by the knowledge; she doesn’t run around the playground, saying, ‘guess what my mum and dad did!’ or at least I don’t think she does.

To her it’s just knowledge, it’s just another fact. But to tell her that fairies don’t exist, or that it’s really mum, not the Easter Bunny that hides the choccy eggs would change her. Making babies isn’t part of her world, but magic is and I think it should stay that way for as long as possible.

When we told Rosie that we were having another baby, a third, she was delighted, but then she looked puzzled for a moment and said, ‘So did you two have sex?’ To which we replied without any fuss, yes. Then she asked, when, as if she’d missed out on something, as if we’d eaten a cake or gone to the pool without her. She was a little miffed at missing out on the event, but no more put out than if she’d missed out on an extra Tim Tam.

Our second eldest Patrick has started asking questions now. He wants to know whether he’s going to die and if so when. Once again we decided to be honest, telling him that we’ll all die, but not for a long time (fingers crossed). He seemed to accept this, but he still hasn’t dropped the subject, so I think we’ll be discussing that one for a while.

I’m still waiting for someone to ask me where Dorothy the Dinosaur goes when the telly is turned off. 

By John Weldon

This article was first published in Australian Family Magazine, May 2009.