I would open the door, take that beautiful baby in my arms, bend down to thank the kind stork and stroke his head before he turned and flew away - leaving me and my little bundle of joy to get to know each other better. Maybe I had this dream because I watched Dumbo too many times when I was a kid, or maybe my parents told me the stork story a little too often, or maybe it's because Marrakech is stork city.
There is always a stork-reminder (Aha!). They nest on every roof, in every tree and even on the minarets of mosques. They fly overhead in great flocks, with their unmistakable elongated necks and their huge black-tipped wings extended out wide as they glide around, circling the sky. Deciding on where to deliver the next baby bundle?
So if you are trying to decide Mr & Mrs Stork, Im just around the corner. Pick me!
My dream has also got me thinking about all the other tales parents tell when inevitably curious children ask 'Where do babies come from?' From the stork to the gooseberry bush to the cabbage patch. Of course it's all cutesy, sanitized stuff and with definitely less sperm and eggs to explain but.....
....I'd look under any gooseberry bush or in any cabbage patch in the world right now! And I'd open any file, use up all my band width and all my computer memory, if :
Because it's certainly a damn sight easier than this:
Any interesting tales you were told by your parents when you asked the inevitable? I'd love to know if there are different stories out there from other cultures around the world.
