The birds, the bees and the baby bag

“I grew in a bag on your tummy, didn’t I mummy?” asked, DS, who’s just been learning about seahorses at school (that’s the only explanation I can think of for this conversation).

Darling boy, if you’d arrived in a bag, trust me, it would have been a stylish one.

“Um, well. Sort of,” I said. How much do you tell a three-year-old boy?

“And when I came out, you got rid of the bag, didn’t you?” he said.

“Um, well, yes I suppose you could say that.”

“But, mummy. You could have kept the bag on your tummy and then, when you go shopping and you can’t carry stuff, you could put the stuff in the bag! Is that a good idea?”

“A very good idea, darling.”

“And if you didn’t like the baby that grew in the bag, you could wrap it in the bag and throw it away!” He cackled at this idea.

“Well, that’s not very nice, darling. How would you feel if I’d done that to you?”

DS looked thoughtful.

“But what if the baby’s really annoying? You could wrap it in the bag and send it to someone else to look after?”

“Well, mummies tend to really love the babies that grow in their bags. Even when they’re annoying!”

Big, contented smile from DS. “I love you mummy.”

“I love you too.”

Then, as we got him into his pyjamas, he noticed an M&S bag on the bed. “Is this it?” he asked. “Is this the bag I came in?”

“Um… no darling.” I’d prefer to think you’d have arrived in a Prada Saffiano.

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