This weekend was a busy one. We had a wedding (ceremony and all), a baptism, and three baby blessings. While at the last baby blessing of the day (and two sacrament meetings is so far past the limit for my toddler, BTW), my daughter pointed to a woman across the aisle.

“Is she pregnant?”

“No, honey.”

“Why does she look like she has a baby in her tummy?”

“She’s just overweight.”

“How do people get overweight?”

“Ssshh. They’re starting to bless the baby. I’ll talk to you about it later (with me fervently hoping that ‘later’ meant she would forget about it)”.

During the sacramnet hymn:

“Now can you tell me how people get overweight?”

“Well, there are lots of different ways. One is that they eat too much of the wrong kinds of foods and don’t move their body enough. One is that they get sick and certain kinds of medicine make them gain weight. Or sometimes it’s just in some people’s genes, and there’s very little they can do.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, like you have dark hair - you didn’t choose that, that’s just how your genes are. Some people have genes that make them overweight.” (keep in mind that this is all being whispered during the hymn)

“Which one made her like that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met her. But she has a walker, and she had a hard time bending over to pick up a piece of paper that fell, so I think she just has some health problems that make it very difficult for her to move her body at all.”

She seems to accept this. Fast forward to the luncheon after the blessing, which happens to be in a basement apartment, with table set up outside. It is fast Sunday, approaching 5:00, and I’m starving and trying very hard not to lose it.

“Why can’t we go upstairs? Where is the upstairs?”

“They live in the bottom part, and somebody else lives in the top part.”

“Why?”

“Instead of an apartment building, they chose to live in a place like this.”

“Don’t they have enough money to buy a house?”

“Not yet. They haven’t been married very long. Daddy and I lived in a basement apartment like this when we first got married.”

“Was it this one?”

“No.” (Where is the food? - I’m past the point of caring whether or not my fast is righteous at this point.)

“Was it exactly like this one?”

“Pretty close, but a little bit different.”

“Maybe the people that live upstairs are mean.”

“I doubt it.”

“Do they have a downstairs?”

4yo comes over “I want to see the downstairs.”

“There is no downstairs. They just live on this level.”

“When will they get enough money to buy a house?”

“I don’t know.”

“What are those sharp things on that tree?”

“I don’t know.” (Turned out they were chestnuts. Who knew chestnuts were so lethal looking?)

At this point, my husband sits down next to me and asks:

“Hey, is that fan a mini-swamp cooler, or just a regular fan?”

I lost it.

“I don’t know. And if you ask me another question today, I will explode. Do you understand?”

“Hey, just asking.”