The Birds, The Bees and Brenna

I was taking a book out of my métro survival kit (which includes newspapers I've only read parts of, a couple of books, my sketchbook, wikipedia pages of information, my writing notebook, my umbrella, my cell phone charger, my makeup kit, a plastic fan for when the métro is unbearably hot and lots and lots of pens, pencils and erasers) when Brenna noticed the tampon.

"What's this Maman?"

"That's a thing for girls. I'll tell you all about it." I meant in a couple of years time.

She interpreted it differently: "OK. When you put me to bed. Put Kilian to bed first so we can have a nice long chat." Then she scurried upstairs to prepare for our talk.

Hoolah. I don't think I've ever seen her run that fast to go to bed.

I put Kilian to bed and then went into Brenna's room.

She immediately scuttled over to her bed, threw herself in, turned, sat upright and crossed her legs. She was leaning forward and raptly attentive. Her mouth slightly open. Waiting.

I suddenly felt like I should be doing an experimental dance routine or launch into song as the honoured entertainer in a king's court. The feeling of being so closely observed was phenomenal.

Where to start?

...

Are you people paying attention? Let my awkwardness help you out here. Get a pen!

...

I sat down on her bed.

I had no idea where to start. I was wrestling with how much to tell her.

"That thing that you found in my bag? It's called a tampon and it's for when a girl has what's called her period. Do you know what that is?"

"Yes. My teacher mentioned it at school during a history lesson. The period means that a woman can enfanter (have children - for the love of god, there is an actual verb in this country)."

"Right. So a woman can enfanter because she has a period. Every month a woman's body collects blood in a special place and if no baby is planted there, then that blood comes out."

"Where does it come out?"

"Of a girl's zezette (vagina)."

"GROSS!"

"Yes. But don't worry. You have at least three years before you have to worry about any of that."

"Cool."

"So that's what tampons are for. To collect the blood so that it doesn't stain your clothes and embarrass you." I don't mention the weird way tampon commercials associate women with horses. It's too disturbing for adults to handle.

"WAIT A MINUTE! YOU PUT THE WHOLE THING IN?" She looks as though her brain will explode with the idea.

I have to keep from laughing, "Nah. Just part of it. The other part helps to put it in place."

"Oh. So it's like a bum candy! (bonbon des fesses = suppository)"

"Yes. Any other questions?"

"How does the baby get planted in the maman?"

Feck.

Literally. But I could hardly tell her that.

"Um. Right. So in the maman are eggs. Right now, in your tummy, you've got eggs."

"Eggs? Like chickens?" She looks at me like I'm totally pulling her leg.

"Sorta. And in the papa there are...." Dammit. Aren't they sort of eggs too? "...Tadpoles."

"Tadpoles? [WTF?]"

"Well not really tadpoles, but they sort of look like tadpoles. They've got a head and a tail. They're called spermatazoids and they're in the papa's zizi (penis)."

Brenna thinks this is hilarious. It is. Sorta. What's really hilarious is how my brain is racing to tell it like it is so that she'll understand. "Titeuf! He's always talking about spermatazoids! I just didn't know what it meant!" (Thank heaven! A cartoon that paves the way!)

"So then, when the maman's egg and the papa's tadpole meet, they get together and form a baby. And the maman carries it for nine months until it has to come out. Do you know where it comes out?"

"Nooooo...." Brenna is enjoying herself. She is spellbound.

"The zezette!"

"OMFG!"

"And it hurts. A lot. A baby is easy to get in, but holy hell is it ever hard to get out. Imagine doing a caca as big as a watermelon!"

"You're kidding me." Brenna is pale like a ghost.

"Nope." Now I'm enjoying myself. We are now on to what maman's do best: Scaring the shit out their children! RIGHT ON!

"And do you know how the tadpole and the egg meet up and where? In the Maman which means that the papa's zizi has to go into the maman's zezette"

"Stop. You're making this up."

"Nope. Which means that later on, when you're a teenager and a boy wants to put his zizi in your zezette, what are you going to say?"

"Well, if he's cute, I'll probably say yes."

My jaw totally fell off my face.

Brenna burst out laughing. Then I did too.

"WHAT?! Are you telling me that you want to have a baby when you are a teenager? Are you saying that you want the responsability of taking care of someone when you're that young?"

"Not really. I guess I'll tell the cute boy that it would be better if we just shook hands."

...

And yes.

Those last two things? SHE TOTALLY SAID THAT!

That kid is awesome.