B. told us. Of course none of us believed her. But she insisted. She had it on good authority and could even prove it to us.
So we all trooped off to the Children's Section of the Seward Park Library on East Broadway where the librarian nodded gravely at B.'s request and then guided us to a little bookcase we had never really paid attention to before. And there she pulled out a big enough picture book with big enough pictures called How Babies Are Made.
The sudden information that not only did our fathers have one of those but that they did that with our mothers was numbingly shocking.
That is until we discovered dirty jokes.
