How Z took ten years off my life on Thanksgiving Day

We went to my step-dad's cousin's house for Thanksgiving dinner. He and his wife are very sweet, welcoming people, and they always invite us. I overheard them, as we were leaving, say "I'm glad the kids could come." Meaning us. Lol!

Anyway, we were having a lovely time, and around the salad course, I took Z to the restroom. While she was sitting there, she asked, "Will I be as old as you someday?"
"Yes, I certainly hope so. And someday you can be married and have a kid and everything, if you want."
"I don't want to have a kid."
"Okay, then you don't have to. You get to decide."
"Well, I don't have a uterus yet."
"Oh, yeah you do. It's just not ready to have a baby in it, yet."
"How do the babies get there?"
|"Well, the Daddy plants a seed. The mama has an egg, and the seed and the egg have to get together to have a baby. It's like when you plant a seed in the ground and a flower grows."
"Does baby Leah Rose have a seed yet?" [That is the name of a baby that is due next week. We went to visit her parents on Wednesday.]
"Yep, her daddy planted one, and that's how she's growing."
"Oh. Okay."

At that point, she didn't seem to have any more questions and was done with her business, so we went back to the table. I mentioned the conversation, and I said I was glad she hadn't asked WITH WHAT the daddy planted the seed. My stepdad said, "You mean his PORTUGEE RAYGUN?"

Yeah, so then, we had a lovely next several hours. Z played with a couple older girls for a long time, we had the main course and pie (and numerous other desserts), and then there was coffee and Scotch and conversation, and we checked on Zadie a lot and she seemed fine. And then we finally got our coats and went to say goodbye and Z gave big hugs to everyone and then immediately announced, "I have to go potty!" And then I smelled it. She HAD gone potty. And we went into the bathroom, and I will spare you the details, but my requests from my mom, who was running back and forth to the car, included an entire new outfit, wipes, and plastic bags. It was a horror show. I'm seriously traumatized. I don't want to describe it to you, because I know Mommy blogs get a bad reputation for that sort of thing, but when I took off her tights, it was reminiscent of this:

So this Thanksgiving season, Darrel and Sandy can be thankful that we are gone, and my uncle Mick and aunt Jen, who invited us to their home, can be thankful that we declined. I am thankful for wipes, washing machines, and the fact that we have so many pairs of toddler underpants that it was no problem to just burn one.