The little ameoba floated in the sluggish current.  When it reached its parent it brushed against her.  Brushed again.  And again.

“What is it?” the parent asked.

“Nothing, . . . I just- heard a new word.  Do you know what ‘splitting’ is?”

The parent ameoba undulated in the murky water, its anterior and secondary pseudopods blurring in rapid movement.  What should it tell the little one?  Was it time for the reproduction discussion already?

“That’s a good question.  It starts with a mature ameoba . . .” and the parent detailed asexual reproduction, using short, simple terms.

The little ameoba thought this over when the parent was finished.

“So . . . that’s how I was made?” it asked.

“Yes,” the parent said.

“Gross!” the little ameoba said.  “Why did you tell me this?!”