How did you make me?

A few months ago, Myla asked me "Why you made me?" That was an amazing conversation, but we had one that topped that tonight.

As I was putting her to bed tonight, Myla asked "How did you make me?" Pretty sophisticated for a 3 year old, I thought.

"Did you make me with markers? Or crayons? Or paint brushes?"

I told her we'd painted her, with our bodies.

"Where did you make me?"

I told her it was at Daddy's school (she was conceived in student housing at Stanford, while I was in grad school).

"Were your teachers there?"

Nope, it was just me and mommy. :)

"Where was I?"

You were in the air. We grabbed you together and put you in Mommy's tummy (call me crazy, but I swear I could sense the moment of conception).

"What color was it in Mommy's tummy?"

I told her it was too dark to see. But, it was orange, and purple, and red.

She asked me if there was a blanket, and a pillow, and a sheet, and a mat, and what color they all were. She also asked if there was a door! I told her yes, and it was called a cervix!

The whole time we were talking, we were lying in her little todler bed, and I was holding her tight against me, with my arm around her. Unlike many nights, she let me keep my arm around her tonight during this conversation - she could tell we were having a special conversation.