De-balled

Oscar did swimmingly yesterday, and I've never seen him light up the way he did when I went to pick him up last evening. They did send him home with a lampshade collar, but he's luckily left his, uh...droopy pouch alone.

But Big D saw the collar and exclaimed, "They gave you a lampshade for Oscar? Cool!" He asked what it was for. I glanced at the husband, who offered no help. I told him it was in case he wouldn't leave his incision alone on his tummy.

"But why does he have an incision?"

I cleared my throat and threw a look to the husband again. Big D just turned eight, and even though I've been pregnant twice around him, he's never asked about sex or babies or birth. So I've waited on telling him the gory details. I know I need to do it soon, and I will, but man. I was not in the mood last night.

"Oscar went to the vet today to be neutered." Yeah. I was hoping it would fly, too. No dice.

"Neutered?"

This time I kicked the husband. He sniffed and said, "Yep. We got him fixed today. He's all fixed!"

Big D actually accepted that answer, believe it or not. I could tell him that babies are conceived by nose rubbing and are birthed by sneezes, and he would completely buy it. I'm really dreading the time when we have to really hammer out the nitty-gritty aspects.

But how awesome would it be if that were true? Nose rubbing is so much more dignified, I think.