So tonight Texas wanted me to tell him for the millionth time why he can’t have a brother. Just like every other time I explained that Dada had a surgery that keeps him from having babies. This time (inching ever closer to 40) I added that I was getting too old and my eggs were old. Toddler mind blown. First of all the idea that I have tiny eggs somewhere inside of me was almost too much and then the idea that they were perhaps rotting – needless to say we talked the whole rest of the way home about my eggs. In an attempt to move the focus from my aging eggs I mentioned that Dada could not provide sperm which is also needed to make brothers. Totally backfired (imagine that).