((kai tong)) Mom, Dad, Where do babies come from?

Fathers Are Good at Telling Tall Tales
By Jim Hornbeck

I thought I would share with you a father's greatest fear: answering a five-year-old child's question of "Where do babies come from?"
Even though I've reached an age at which I could be a grandpa (a young and virile one, I might add), it doesn't seem that it's been more than twenty years since I gave the "birds and bees" speech.
Because I did such a magnificent job of bungling my first attempt, my wife didn't entrust me with that chore a second time.
Although time has a way of mercifully erasing embarrassing moments from memory, I can recall, with depressing clarity, the circumstances of my father-son talk.
One night while Nancy and I were watching "All in the Family," she said calmly, "Jim, I think you should find time to tell Shawn about the facts of life. Soon."
"Aw, Honey," I whined, "the little guy is too young for that sort of thing."
"I don't know about that." She smiled and raised an eyebrow. "Yesterday, Shawn wanted to know if he could trade his G.I. Joe for a Raquel Welch."
"They don't make Raquel Welch dolls, do they?" I asked.
"No," she said, "but he didn't want a doll, he wanted Raquel Welch. THE Raquel Welch!"
I cleared my throat several times, fidgeted quite a bit and finally said, "Wellll . . . well, Honey, I guess you're right, but he's so young."
"Kids mature faster nowadays," she said comfortingly. "The curse of television and movie previews, I suppose."
"I better do it now and get it over with," I said.
If I remember correctly, our little talk ended with ". . . and so you see, an Indian shoots an arrow into the sky. If it lands in an oyster bed, the mommy will have a boy. If it lands in a strawberry patch, she'll have a girl."
"Then does the mommy have to eat the oyster?" asked Shawn.
"Ummm . . . ahhh . . . yeah, sure. And that's probably why there are more girls than boys," I said.
Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open. "Jim, JIM HORNBECK! How could you tell a story like THAT?" shouted Nancy. "Why, that's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."
"Mommy," said Shawn, "don't be mad. I knew it was just one of Daddy's stories."
"You did?" I said, overcome with relief.
"Sure," said Shawn, "Mikey already told me where babies come from."
"He did?" we chorused.
"What really happens," he continued, "is a man and a woman go to Hollywood and get married. After they do a bunch of kissing and hugging, they have a party and get lots of presents."
"Oh, good grief," sighed Nancy.
"And two of the presents are catalogs."
"What?" we chorused again.
"Then they choose a boy baby from Sears," said Shawn, "or a girl baby from JC Penney. That's what Mikey said."
"Who told him that?" I asked.
"His dad," said Shawn.
Nancy frowned. "Oyster beds and catalogs. Now, where would you men ever learn stories like that!"
I smiled sheepishly and said, "From our fathers, of course."