What the...?

Having already been gifted with two daughters, I was finally blessed with the son for whom I’d prayed most of my adult life. One daughter was six, and the other was two. My son may have been a week old when my oldest daughter decided to watch me change a diaper. I thought nothing of this innocent observation and was quite flattered that she felt me interesting enough to watch. Most of my queries these days were met with a cluck of her tongue and a roll of her eyes. My son disrobed, I carefully wiped him down, and out of the corner of my eye I caught the familiar “What the….?” forehead wrinkle. She’d been on her father’s family farm hundreds of times, and was very aware of the difference between hens and roosters, but it occurred to me, she’d never actually SEEN it. Inevitably, she pointed there and said, “What’s that?" This did not shake me as one might think. I’ve had MANY frank conversations with this child, and at this point she had me pretty seasoned. My SuperMom Answer of the Year was, “Those are called testicles. That’s part of the difference between boys and girls, and those are the parts that will help him make babies someday.” I literally high-fived myself. I mean, really, who could have answered that better? Honest, informative, yet not too graphic. My smirk of self-righteousness was met with a look of utter horror as she asked, “Are they gonna fall off when his belly button does?”
Speechless, all I could mutter was "Let's hope not".