My children are masters of annoying questions.

"Who sings this song?" my five-year-old daughter asks.
"The Scissor Sisters."
"Are they boys?"
"In the way that the Bee Gees are boys."
"What does that mean?"
"Never mind."

Driving to the new Wegmans supermarket, Griffin asks where we are going.
"To a fancy grocery store," I say.
"Do you have to be fancy to go there?" he frets.
"No, or they wouldn't let us in."

The enjoyment factor really boosts when my two year old starts with her demands and queries.
"I want to go through a tunnel," she says.
"There's no tunnel this way."
"Why not?" she cries.

And so it goes.

My twins' questions became particularly challenging when I was pregnant with Jane. "How did the baby get in your tummy?" they constantly asked. Feeling clever, I went to the library and chose some tactful children's books that explained how the woman has the egg and the man has the seed and when they go together -- presto!

But after Jane was born, that explanation stopped satisfying Georgia and Griffin, then three. "But how do the egg and the seed get together?" they kept on. I tried, "They just do." Or, "It kind of just happens." My twins were relentless in their demands for specificity.

"How do the egg and seed get together and then get in your tummy?" Georgia asked again one day.
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes," my twins answered in unison.
"Well, the man puts his penis in the woman's vagina, releases the sperm, which fertilizes the egg, and then a baby grows in the mommy's womb."

Their stunned silence lasted about nine minutes before the questions began again.

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