Oh Captain, My Captain. April 25, 2008
Yesterday I was driving down the highway, hustling to an appointment, without my kids. Usually they are with me, and I drive slow, because it is hard to focus on the road and answer all their questions. It’s kinda like taking mid-terms, all over again, every day. And, questions always come out of left field, so I to dig deep to comb my long term memory.
“Mommy, why are we having a baby, why don’t you lay an egg?”
“Well because people are mammals. Mammals are warm blooded, have hair, and they don’t lay eggs to have babies.”
“So snakes have eggs?”
“Yes.”
“And dogs have babies?
“Yes.”
“Elephants must lay REALLY BIG eggs!”
“No, elephants are mammals, they don’t lay eggs.”
“But they don’t have any hair.”
“Ya, they do, not a lot, but they do.”
Thank goodness we didn’t start talking about dolphins!
And then it’s off to the next question. They are rapid fire I tell you!
“Mommy, I know hair and fingernails are dead cells. Do the blood cells just die and then grow out of your finger nails?”
I temporarily black out.
Seriously, you’re 5!
“Um, well, no.” Now you know why I drive slow, so don’t honk at me.
“Ok, um, remember how your kidneys filter your blood and fluids? Well, if there are dead blood cells, I think they get filtered out in your kidneys and sent out with your potty.” There’s a pause as the wheels in his mind turn for a couple minutes.
“Huh, so I pee out my dead blood cells?”
“Ya.”
“Then where do dead cells for hair and fingernails come from?”
“Ummmmmm. Wow, look at that big tractor over there!”
I hated anatomy and physiology in college. I didn’t get it then, and explaining what I don’t understand to a 5 year old is tough! So now you know why I drive so slow!
Salud, H.
Is the title from the Dead Poet Society? Good movie. Cute anecdote :p
“Oh Captain! My Captain”! Is a Walt Whitman poem about finding his captain dead, so maybe… it’s been a while since I watched it.
I did however have to recite it in front of my 9th grade English class, and all I can remember is that I couldn’t remember any of the words, and Mr. Nuzam gave me a poor grade because he thought I was way to fidgety… oy! Days I’d never want to repeat!
H