A/N: Ok, so this is not the most well-advised fic out there; however, this is what happens when you read wonderfully quirky children's novels at too advanced an age, and have very strange conversations with a friend who has done the same, apparently. Credit goes to said really!awesome accomplice, Jane Faro, for betareading. I still think it needs more on the end.
He'd tried. He'd swear he'd tried. He'd carefully and discreetly steered Bod away from the more…enthusiastic couples, made absolutely sure that the graveyard's population didn't accidentally discuss sensitive topics around their living companion, anything in his power to keep the child from asking the dreaded Questions.
But he couldn't watch him every moment. And today, just after Silas had awoken, there was Bod, bouncing slightly up and down in his impatience for his guardian. And then he'd pointed, a confused expression on his face, to the young couple in the corner of the graveyard, who were currently enjoying themselves far too much for Silas' liking.
"What are they doing?" the boy inquired with his head tilted slightly to the side. It wasn't that it bothered his guardian to be asked questions, but there were very few delicate ways to explain the subject at hand, and, if he never lived to have to do it again, it would be far, far too soon.
"And hello to you, too, Bod," evaded Silas.
"Hi. So, what are they doing?" Bod was clearly in no mood for pleasantries, and the greeting was perfunctory and quickly discarded as a topic of comparatively minimal interest.
Hmm. How to satisfy the boy's questions without actually having to broach the true topic. Ah!
"That may be a question for your parents. Go and ask them, I am sure that they would be happy to oblige you with an answer," he advised, silently pleading that the Owens would take it as their responsibility as parents to teach Bod about these matters.
However, it appeared that no such luck was to be had. "I did. Mum just stalked away muttering that they were 'No better than they should be,' and Dad told me to ask you," sighed the boy, clearly disappointed with his parents' lack of reasonable answers. Silas had a great deal of respect towards the Owens, but briefly contemplated sending Bod back home with an irreproachably polite reminder that they were, in fact, his parents. Trusting his better judgement, however, he sighed, and considered how best to explain this.
After a couple moments of silence, he spoke aloud.
"Do you know what it means, Bod, when adults say that they love each other?"
"Sure, I guess. I mean, my parents love me, don't they?" he shrugged.
"Not quite the meaning I intended. No, I mean that they care for each other romantically. Today, it has become the reason many couples marry, or seek each other's company," Silas clarified carefully.
"Oh. I think I get it."
"Very good. Now, sometimes, when an adult couple care for each other and have some form of income or monetary support, they may wish to start a family. This entails having a child. You do know how children are born?" He hoped sincerely that the answer was a yes. Explaining more than was absolutely necessary would be a trial to be sure.
"Oh, of course! Some of the midwives explained it to me when a pregnant woman and her husband went for a walk here," Bod clarified.
"How helpful of them." Now only if they had done the work of explaining the other bit. "Well, that," Silas gestured at the couple, who appeared to have fallen asleep by this point in the conversation, "is the manner in which the woman becomes pregnant."
"Oh, ok! I get it! So those two are trying to have a baby?"
"I sincerely doubt it," the guardian muttered, observing their age.
Bod, however, was a better listener than most children his age, and once again tilted his head confusedly. "Then, why are they…?"
Perhaps it would have been better not to state that last comment aloud.