The big guy

Let's just go ahead and blame this growing baby girl for my inability to blog. She's a feisty little lady whose favorite times to practice her dance moves seem to be between 10:30 p.m. and 2:00 a.m. By 5:30 a.m. I have to get up to pee - which is upsetting to a woman who has always had a bladder of steal and never has to pee. And, once awake, I rarely fall back into a good sleep. Essentially, a good night's rest is already out the window and I still have 16 glorious weeks of pregnancy to go.

That being said, I have been meaning to share this interaction for days. A little background: Addie is full, as we all know, of questions. Since finding out about our new baby she asks, constantly, how people are made.

Mommy? How do people get made?
Where do people come from mommy?
Do we make people mommy?

Learning from my friend, who shared a bit too much factual information with her five year old, I have chose the stock answer that Mommies and daddies love each other very much and decide to have a baby (see Mom, I did learn some thing at L.A.M.O. in sixth grade). Some days Addie takes this response and is good to go with it. Sometimes she demands a bit more specifics.

This week, after giving her my line, she looked at me and said:
But what about the big guy, Mom?
What big guy, babe?
You know, the big guy in heaven. What about him? Doesn't he help?
Er - I, uh...
No! Mama! Not the big guy, like Papa*, but that other big guy in heaven?

Oh. Him.
God**. Er - I, uh...



*It's nice to know that Addie thinks Papa Neyer is the man in heaven, like he's his own small time heavenly mayor. Which, let's be honest, he probably is.

** Maybe it's time we go to church more often than friends' weddings? Perhaps it's time for Sunday School?