Oh Dear. Lifeline? Someone?

Did you and Daddy make me out of clay?

The question came as Lily was leaning casually against the bed, in her pjs.
Eyes open and expectant.

Oh! I said.
Good question Pumpkin.
We didn't.
Actually, Daddy and I made you out of lots of love.

Eyes unblinking.
Fixed stare.
Answer not good enough.
No comment from peanut gallery.

Wheels were turning, as were mine.
Oh dear. Not off the hook yet.

You know how your flower plant was a seed that was planted in the dirt and then it grew and grew and now has lots of flowers?

Nod. Stare unwavering.

Well... That's kind of how we made you! Kind of like a seed was planted and you grew until you were big enough to come out all by yourself.

Pause to see if I've succeeded in Reproduction for Three Year Olds 101.

She ponders. Imagining herself in dirt in her mom. Hmmm.
Not a good answer?

I am not sure how the conversation concluded. I was so concerned with my explanation that the rest is a blur.
I think we went on to talk about which of her friends were older and younger.
Any conversation change is welcome with the Big Life Questions.

But Lily's dad is mentioned frequently this season.
She misses him.
She wants to see him.

What would you say to him if you saw him, Pumpkin?
I would tell him I love him.
And then she bursts into an improvised song to him which is beautiful and blogworthy until it ends with "peepee and poopy".
Then she is all laughs.
She wonders frequently about when other dads she knows will die.
And she now is beginning to understand her world with a maturing mind.

Again, oh dear.

Her world is one where dads die.
Period.
I explain that most live until they're very very old.
But not William's dad? And Nikhil's?
Right, Pumpkin, William's dad and Nikhil's dads died when they were little babies, I say softly.
But most daddies don't.
Most daddies don't, I repeat.

Why must difficult life lessons begin so early?

I'll take love and clay, any day, over death.