I was waiting for it to happen, and frankly, I thought he’d ask about a daddy first, but this morning as we were putting on our shoes and zipping up our jackets, The Who looked up at me and said, “Mama? Why do I have TWO mommies?”
Despite my rush to get out the door (him to school and me to work) and the chaos of the early weekday morning, I registered the importance of the question. One of those questions that, as a parent of a young child (and especially a queer parent of a young child), you wait for and think about and plan for, but are never fully prepared for. Where do babies come from? Where do you go when you die? What is God? Why do I have two mommies?
I told him that his Mommy and I love each other and got married (hoping that when he is really old enough to know, our marriage will actually be legal and recognized in our home state) and we decided to have a child, so we are both his mommies together. That seemed to sate him. He flipped the last velcro on his sneaker over, pulled the hood of his sweater onto his head, and said, “Oh. Ok.”
So, that’s how that went.