moved to Algonquin Lane, to the house where everyone could have her own bedroom. Even then Heather could recognize a bribe when she saw oneâ you can have a bedroom, but you wonât be the baby. The house was huge compared to their apartment, big enough so that four children could have their own bedrooms. That made Heather feel better somehow. Even the new baby wouldnât always be the baby. And Heather would get second dibs on whatever room she wanted. She thought she should get first dibs, given that she was losing baby status, but her parents explained that because Sunny was older, she would be in her room a shorter amount of time before going to college, so she should have first choice. If Heather really wanted the room that Sunny chose, then it could be hers for three years, most of high school. Even at four going on five, something in Heather rebelled at that logic, but she didnât have the words to make an argument, and her parents were never impressed by tantrums. Her mother said exactly that when she tried: âIâm not impressed, Heather.â Her father said, âI donât respond to that kind of behavior.â But he didnât respond to any behavior that Heather could see. Look at Sunny. She played by their rules, marshaled her arguments and presented them in orderly fashion, and she almost never got what she wanted. Heather was much sneakier, and she usually got her way. She even got to stay the baby, although that wasnât because of anything she did. As it turned out, the baby just hadnât been strong enough to live outside their motherâs stomach.
When the baby died, their father made a point of telling Heather and Sunny exactly what a miscarriage was. To do that he had to explainhow the baby had gotten inside their mother in the first place. Much to their dismay, he used all the proper wordsâpenis, vagina, uterus.
âWhy would Mommy let you do that?â Sunny had demanded to know.
âBecause thatâs how babies are made. Besides, it feels good. When youâre a grown-up,â her father had added. âWhen youâre a grown-up, it feels good to do that, even if it doesnât make a baby. Itâs a very sacred thing, the way you show love.â
âButâ¦butâpee comes out of there. You might have peed inside her.â
âUrine, Sunny. And the penis knows not to do that when itâs inside a woman.â
âHow?â
Their father started to explain how the penis grew when it wanted to make a baby, how it had this different kind of liquid inside filled with seed called sperm, until Sunny put her hands over her ears and said, âEew, I donât want to know. It could still get confused. It could still pee in there.â
âHow big does it get?â Heather wanted to know. Her father had held out his hands, like a man showing the size of a fish heâd caught, but she didnât believe him.
Given that she knew everything about baby making before she entered kindergarten, Heather was surprised when she got to Dickey Hill Elementary and discovered that sex education was not taught until the sixth grade and it was considered a big deal, requiring permission slips from all the parents. Still, she didnât brag about her knowledge or draw attention to it. That was another thing that Sunny never understood, that it was good to keep things back, not volunteer everything at once. No one liked a show-off.
In fourth grade, however, Heatherâs friend Bethâs mother got pregnant, and Bethâs parents told her that God had put the baby there. Like her father, Heather could not bear to let misinformation stand. She convened a quick class beneath the jungle gym on the playground, recounting everything she knew about baby making. Bethâs parents complained, and Heatherâs parents were called to school, but her father was not only unapologetic, he was proud of Heather. âI canât be held
When the baby died, their father made a point of telling Heather and Sunny exactly what a miscarriage was. To do that he had to explainhow the baby had gotten inside their mother in the first place. Much to their dismay, he used all the proper wordsâpenis, vagina, uterus.
âWhy would Mommy let you do that?â Sunny had demanded to know.
âBecause thatâs how babies are made. Besides, it feels good. When youâre a grown-up,â her father had added. âWhen youâre a grown-up, it feels good to do that, even if it doesnât make a baby. Itâs a very sacred thing, the way you show love.â
âButâ¦butâpee comes out of there. You might have peed inside her.â
âUrine, Sunny. And the penis knows not to do that when itâs inside a woman.â
âHow?â
Their father started to explain how the penis grew when it wanted to make a baby, how it had this different kind of liquid inside filled with seed called sperm, until Sunny put her hands over her ears and said, âEew, I donât want to know. It could still get confused. It could still pee in there.â
âHow big does it get?â Heather wanted to know. Her father had held out his hands, like a man showing the size of a fish heâd caught, but she didnât believe him.
Given that she knew everything about baby making before she entered kindergarten, Heather was surprised when she got to Dickey Hill Elementary and discovered that sex education was not taught until the sixth grade and it was considered a big deal, requiring permission slips from all the parents. Still, she didnât brag about her knowledge or draw attention to it. That was another thing that Sunny never understood, that it was good to keep things back, not volunteer everything at once. No one liked a show-off.
In fourth grade, however, Heatherâs friend Bethâs mother got pregnant, and Bethâs parents told her that God had put the baby there. Like her father, Heather could not bear to let misinformation stand. She convened a quick class beneath the jungle gym on the playground, recounting everything she knew about baby making. Bethâs parents complained, and Heatherâs parents were called to school, but her father was not only unapologetic, he was proud of Heather. âI canât be held
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