My "Granddaughter"

Yesterday, Megan and I attended another session of her Birds and Bees class.

When the classes began back in February, it looked like we were going to have to miss some of the best -- er, most informative -- sessions. But thanks to conflicts in the presenter's schedule, this course has dragged on so that we got through the last of Megan's meets and didn't have to miss yesterday's talk about conception, labor, and the responsibility people assume when they decide to have sex.

I think my daughter kind of enjoys the class, although it's hard to tell and she would certainly deny it. She sits beside me, rarely looks up, and doodles in her book. (This doesn't bother me, as I am also a habitual doodler and used to get in trouble for it in class -- until my test scores proved to my teachers that I was indeed paying attention.) When the RN instructor first offered the girls a definition of sexual intercourse, most of the other girls in the class winced, but not Megan. I leaned over to her and whispered a question: "Did you already know that?" She nodded yes. Apparently, she actually had bothered to read the book I'd bought her a couple of years ago when she insisted upon finding out where babies come from.

But then the instructor decided to describe other sexual practices (let's just say it's  one a former President didn't think qualified as actual sex -- and the news that this is now all the rage among the junior high set is not making me feel any better about my little girl moving on to middle school next year). "That's disgusting!" my daughter whispered back to me. I'm happy to let her think that way for a long, long time.

The class concluded with the instructor passing out hard boiled eggs, which the girls are to treat as babies for the next week. We had already been asked to bring a "car seat" to class for our "baby." We were also given random pink and blue birth announcements ("Because you're pregnant, you can't choose if it's going to be a girl or a boy," she said.) Megan was very happy to be given a girl.

"You know, if you had been a boy, your dad and I would love you just the same," I told her. Megan said she knew that. But she wanted a girl just the same.

The announcement stated that the "baby" was born on March 25, 2007 at 4:00 AM and that she weighed 7 pounds, 4 ounces. There was also space for Megan to insert her name as the parent and to name the  "baby." Megan dubbed her Scarlett Sapphire Mills.

The announcement also contained the following instructions:

DO's:

• Egg Babies must have a car seat whenever taken out!
• Egg Babies should be tended to every 4 hours (changed, fed & bathed)!
• Where you go, Egg Baby goes (except school). If you participate in after school activities, a baby sitter is required!

DON'TS:

• Never leave your Egg Baby unattended (near animals, alone in car, microwaves or near pets, baby sisters or brothers)!

Upon bringing the egg home, Megan proceeded to draw on a little face, made it a dress out of a paper towel, and a nice bed out of cotton balls in a small glass bowl. She wrapped it in a warm scarf. Then, she accidentally cracked its little "head," after which, she applied a bandage.

She did a good job of feeding, changing and bathing the egg every four hours until she went to bed last night and then again first thing this morning. (Although I did have to explain why a Subway sandwich is not an appropriate meal for a baby -- even a make-believe one made of a hard-boiled egg.) Then, she asked if I would babysit while she's at gym this afternoon.

I'm charging her 25 cents an hour. With all the time she spends there, I could actually make some money.