"THE Talk"

Tonight was the night. After putting it off for a day or two, I finally answered the burning question of the week:

"How does the daddy's sperm get inside the mommy?"



It wasn't that hard to do, actually. I had a day or two to look up age-appropriate things to say and to psych up for it. When the moment came, I stifled a nervous giggle and pressed ahead.



Whew. I hope I passed that test.



I gave VJ the scientific info she needed and made sure she knew it was okay to ask me any thing, any time. I only made her promise me one thing. Don't - don't - talk to your friends about this. Every mommy and daddy gets to tell their child about it in their own special way and they, not you, get to be the messenger. I hope she takes me seriously.



It's been nearly seven years since I had a newborn to care for, about two years since I had a preschooler. I realized the other day that I'm a bit out of the loop and better start brushing up on the latest trends in parenting.



Dana Loesch's column in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch reminded me just how out of it I am. I recognized precious few of the shows on her "official pretentious hipster guide to kiddie shows" list. I agree with her on Lazytown, Oswald and Thomas the Tank Engine. Just horrible.



She piqued my interest, however, with her rave reviews for Yo Gabba Gabba, I show I was inclined to dislike on name alone (reminds me too much of the Doodlebops and TeleTubbies). How could Biz Markie be on a children's show and I not know about it?!?!?!? This is an outrage. I'm totally setting a tape for 9:30 a.m. tomorrow. It's time to brush up on the beatboxing skills.



--Jeff