I clearly remember this conversation because I was horrified at the answer. I was approximately 4 or 5 years old.
Me: Where do babies come from?
Curtis: Hm... Well, I don't know where other babies come from but I know where you came from.
Me: Where?
Curtis: I'll tell ya. First, I got a bowl. A big mixing bowl. Then, I put in a lot of stuff - freckles, green eyes and blonde hair. Some sugar and spice too. Then, I steered it up real good and put you in the oven and baked you up.
Me (Horrified at the thought of the hot oven): WHAT?!? The OVEN?!
Curtis: Yep.
At this point my face falls and bottom lip starts trembling.
Curtis: What's wrong, baby girl?
Me: Daddy...you...you... baked me!
Curtis laughed so hard he cried.
