When I was really little, I asked my mom were babies came from, and — having misheard me — she said, “A dog bite.”
So for months, I became afraid of our dog Clancy — because I did NOT want to be pregnant. Being six was awful enough.
When I told my sister about this dog-bites-you-and-a-baby-is-born logic, she freaked out: “Clancy bit me this morning!”
I cannot describe to you the confusion and absolute horror on my family’s face when my nine-year-old sister announced her pregnancy at Thanksgiving.
