A/N: Another short fluff story. My character from "Baking Cookies" shows up again here. I wouldn't say it's neccessary to read that story first, but that's the order I wrote them in.
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Giroro hadn't realized that babies did indeed have a distinct smell until he held Imomo, still slimy and a bit damp from her egg, for the first time.
Right now though Giroro suspected that Imomo would smell of the wax crayons she was drawing with and of the can of gun-oil she'd poured over herself earlier that afternoon. She'd refused to take a bath and Giroro was starting to regret not forcing her to.
He had just put down his grenade launcher and was about to get started on his laser rifle when Imomo peered over at him and asked the dreaded question.
"Papa, where do babies come from?"
Giroro twitched. He had hoped to be spared that until her teen years...at least!
Swallowing he picked the answer that would be more or less true, but also safe.
"Babies come from eggs", he said and picked up the polishing cloth he'd dropped on the ground.
"Did Natsumi-chan come from an egg?" Imomo asked, drawings all but forgotten now.
Giroro groaned inwardly. He'd read up on Pekoponian reproduction, among other things and now he found one detail he could cling to.
"Yes, but a much smaller one then yours", Giroro explained, praying that this would be the end of it.
Not so.
"Where do the eggs come from then?" the little demon now asked, crawling close enough to her father that he could smell the dried gun-oil on her. She really needed a bath now.
"The eggs come from the mommy", Giroro said and braced himself. He hoped this wouldn't lead to a discussion about who her "mommy" was.
"But what does the daddy do?" Imomo asked instead, peering intently at Giroro.
He felt his face growing hot and sweat was breaking out on his forehead. Giroro actually would have preferred her asking about her mysterious, unknown mother.
"He...he helps the mommy make the egg", Giroro stuttered.
"How?" she then asked, completely breaking her father's brain.
Giroro tried desperately to come up with an answer that wouldn't corrupt the child's mind, but instead he was assaulted with various mental images, some not so pure at all..
Instead he merely gaped like a fish on dry land, face bright red and sweat pouring off him by the gallon.
"Imomo-chan!" came Natsumi's voice from the open door-way to the house. "I baked a cake and if you hurry I'll let you lick the bowl!"
With a shriek of joy Imomo rushed inside the house, abandoning her flustered father outside his tent.
"My goodness, Imomo-chan, what is that stuff on you!" Giroro could hear Natsumi say. "Go wash up or you're not getting anything."
The sound of footsteps made Giroro look up and he could see Natsumi standing in the doorway, eyes fixed on him.
"I heard what she was asking you", Natsumi said, smiling softly. "Giroro, couldn't you have just made something up?"
Giroro stared down at his feet again.
"I...I didn't think of that."
Though still feeling pretty embarrassed about the whole situation, the sound of Natsumi laughing made him feel a lot better. Heck, it actually had been kind of funny.