标签: photographer

When I was just a boy, older people used to talk about  the origin of babies in all sorts of weird and wonderful ways, saying things like "the stork brought him" or "they got her from the cabbage patch." Sad to relate, this seemed to make perfect sense at the time. Actually, this reminds me of a true story item I read somewhere a long time ago – perhaps in the Reader's Digest . It was written by a mother who told the tale of her young daughter coming home from school saying that the boys on the school bus had been teasing her by saying that she wasn't a girl. The mother went on to say that she was horrified when the daughter concluded by saying "So I proved that I was a girl!" When the mother trepidatiously asked "How did you do that?" The daughter replied "I showed them my Brownie card!" (The Brownies are the younger version of the Girl Guides.) But we digress... I remember when I first heard about sex. I had just turned thirteen years' old at the time. My cousin Gillian (who was a year younger than I) explained all. I didn't believe a word of it. When I returned home, my father was sitting in the back garden smoking his pipe and enjoying the sun. "Dad," I said, "I've been hearing things about sex and I wanted to ask you about it." When faced with a problem, my father used to clean his pipe while pondering the solution. This time he emptied his half-smoked pile, dismantled it into its lowest-level components, and gave it the cleaning of its life. Then he reassembled it, rolled a ball of (St. Bruno) tobacco, used one match to warm it, a second to start it, and a third to really get it going. Once he was happily puffing away, he said "You tell me what you've heard son, and I'll tell you if it's right." I remember thinking "You Cunning Rascal" to myself (or words to that effect). And so, with great embarrassment, I proceeded to him what I'd head, and he said "That's right, son. Is there anything else I can help you with?" The reason I'm waffling on about this here is that I just saw a rather interesting story. It appears that Canadian photographer Patrice Laroche will have no trouble explaining the origin of babies to his kids. Throughout his wife's pregnancy, the artist created a series of self- explanatory photos titled "How to Make a Baby". The images are as shown below – maybe you (or someone you know) will find them useful when it comes to explaining "the birds and the bees" in the future:              

When I was a young boy, adults used to discuss the origin of babies in all sorts of weird and wonderful ways, saying things like "the stork brought him" or "they got her from the cabbage patch." Sad to relate, this seemed to make perfect sense at the time. Actually, this reminds me of a true story item I read somewhere a long time ago – perhaps in the Reader's Digest . It was written by a mother who told the tale of her young daughter coming home from school saying that the boys on the school bus had been teasing her by saying that she wasn't a girl. The mother went on to say that she was horrified when the daughter concluded by saying "So I proved that I was a girl!" When the mother trepidatiously asked "How did you do that?" The daughter replied "I showed them my Brownie card!" (The Brownies are the younger version of the Girl Guides.) But we digress... I remember when I first heard about sex. I had just turned thirteen years' old at the time. My cousin Gillian (who was a year younger than I) explained all. I didn't believe a word of it. When I returned home, my father was sitting in the back garden smoking his pipe and enjoying the sun. "Dad," I said, "I've been hearing things about sex and I wanted to ask you about it." When faced with a problem, my father used to clean his pipe while pondering the solution. This time he emptied his half-smoked pile, dismantled it into its lowest-level components, and gave it the cleaning of its life. Then he reassembled it, rolled a ball of (St. Bruno) tobacco, used one match to warm it, a second to start it, and a third to really get it going. Once he was happily puffing away, he said "You tell me what you've heard son, and I'll tell you if it's right." I remember thinking "You Cunning Rascal" to myself (or words to that effect). And so, with great embarrassment, I proceeded to him what I'd head, and he said "That's right, son. Is there anything else I can help you with?" The reason I'm waffling on about this here is that I just saw a rather interesting story. It appears that Canadian photographer Patrice Laroche will have no trouble explaining the origin of babies to his kids. Throughout his wife's pregnancy, the artist created a series of self- explanatory photos titled "How to Make a Baby". The images are as shown below – maybe you (or someone you know) will find them useful when it comes to explaining "the birds and the bees" in the future: