Minding my own business as one does, I become acutely aware that Grace has made a discovery. She's found a 'hole' and she needs to know what it is. Quickly. I turn to see her pointing at her nether regions and appealing to me with a quizzical look that says 'am I broken?' and 'what is it?' all at once without uttering a vowel.
I ignore her. Just this once - I excuse myself and carry on drying myself - we're in the changing room after swim class.
She doesn't let up. She asks me again - 'what is it?' and then 'have you got one Mummy?'
Gritting my teeth and with hushed tones, ignoring the other mothers I can hear masking laughs with coughs, politely dressing their own children who don't ask such questions in the changing room at swim class.
'Well', I tell her, 'its something mother nature put there when you were born'.
She nods, seemingly satisfied with my response and content to step into her knickers, hiding the offending apparition.
'Show me yours Mummy!' she demands, tugging at my towel. We argue the pro's and con's of this for what seems like an eternity until she eventually settles for modesty and let's the conversation move on. My negotiation skills were hammered. Out of the woods and with a sigh of relief, I go back to mentally checking off the online grocery order I plan to do when I get home in my head.
'Has Daddy got one?' she brings me back to the hear and now. Toddler Adam in the next cubicle giggles, Grace stifles a yawn. The discovery trail is tiring.
'No sweetie, Daddy is a boy. He has something different'.
'A sausage Mummy?'
And at that moment I realise, amidst the sniggering from the Mum next door, that not only is Grace inquisitive and bright, she's a mind reader as well. Sausages off the shopping list, I make a note to substitute the Toad in the Hole I had planned for supper. It's enough to put you off your food.
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