Page 293 - The Story of My Lif

August 28, 1887.

I do wish things would stop being born! “New puppies,” “new calves” and “new
babies” keep Helen’s interest in the why and wherefore of things at white heat.
The arrival of a new baby at Ivy Green the other day was the occasion of a fresh
outburst of questions about the origin of babies and live things in general.

“Where did Leila get new baby? How did doctor know where to find baby? Did
Leila tell doctor to get very small new baby? Where did doctor find Guy and
Prince?” (puppies) “Why is Elizabeth Evelyn’s sister?” etc., etc. These questions
were sometimes asked under circumstances which rendered them embarrassing,

and I made up my mind that something must be done. If it was natural for Helen
to ask such questions, it was my duty to answer them. It’s a great mistake, I
think, to put children off with falsehoods and nonsense, when their growing
powers of observation and discrimination excite in them a desire to know about
things. From the beginning, I HAVE MADE IT A PRACTICE TO ANSWER
ALL HELEN’S

QUESTIONS TO THE BEST OF MY ABILITY IN A WAY INTELLIGIBLE
TO HER, and at the same time truthfully. “Why should I treat these questions
differently?” I asked myself. I decided that there was no reason, except my
deplorable ignorance of the great facts that underlie our physical existence. It
was no doubt because of this ignorance that I rushed in where more experienced
angels fear to tread. There isn’t a living soul in this part of the world to whom I
can go for advice in this, or indeed, in any other educational difficulty. The only
thing for me to do in a perplexity is to go ahead, and learn by making mistakes.
But in this case I don’t think I made a mistake. I took Helen and my Botany,
“How Plants Grow,” up in the tree, where we often go to read and study, and I
told her in simple words the story of plantlife. I reminded her of the corn, beans
and watermelon-seed she had planted in the spring, and told her that the tall corn
in the garden, and the beans and watermelon vines had grown from those seeds. I

explained how the earth keeps the seeds warm and moist, until the little leaves
are strong enough to push themselves out into the light and air where they can
breathe and grow and bloom and make more seeds, from which other baby-
plants shall grow. I drew an analogy between plant and animal-life, and told her
that seeds are eggs as truly as hens’ eggs and birds’