There's a particularly rough bit of track between Orchid Beach and the calm side of Fraser island. Coming home the other day, the rest of our crew pulled up on the other side to make sure we got through. They noted the grave look on my face and figured I was worried about Bearhands' driving.
Inside the car, the sisters were having a conversation.
The Big Sister asked the Little Sister if she'd like to be a mummy when she grew up. Ever the diplomat, I jumped in and volunteered that perhaps she needn't be a mummy, she could be an aunt.
The Big Sister's reaction was unexpected. "Phew! I can be the aunt. I don't want a big baby coming out of my fanny!"
An involuntary hand went to my face and Bearhands, concentrating on the track, asked what she'd said. So she repeated, louder as if her father was a bit thick: "I don't want a big baby coming out of my fanny".
Not wanting to make a big deal of the subject matter with, as much calm as I could muster, I inquired where she'd learned that babies come out of your fanny.
"Nan told me."*
"Mummy, what does it feel like when a baby comes out of your fanny?"
And that's when we rounded the bend and the going got really rough. Innocent bystanders didn't learn the real reason for my steely grimace until later when I got out of the car and demanded someone pour me a drink. Stat!
has a big baby ever come out of your fanny?
what did it feel like?
* for the record Mum, I don't reckon you're the source of this gem of knowledge.