When my granddaughter, Ann, was nine-years-old, she was given an assignment by her teacher to write a story on "Where my family came from." The purpose was to understand her genealogy.
I was not aware of her assignment when she asked me at the dining room table one night, "Grandma, where did I come from?"
I responded quite nervously, because my son and daughter-in-law were out of town and I was stalling until they returned home. "Well, honey, the stork brought you."
"Where did mom come from then?"
"The stork brought her too."
"Okay, then where did you come from?"
"The stork brought me too, dear."
"Okay. Thanks, Grandma."
I did not think anything more about it until two days later when I was cleaning Ann's room and read the first sentence of her paper, "For three generations, there have been no natural births in our family."