We don’t tell them. Do we?

Do you remember your talk? I mean THE TALK. That awkward talk or vague talk or even worse that painfully clinical talk that made you wonder about the rational for doing this sex thing at all. This sticky icky thing that concerns all the parts that we really don’t want anyone to touch.

Indeed I thought my parents were just odd. With their threats about boys touching, never even specifying which orifices were off limits, or that especially hilarious one liner, I kid you not, I got about the way men and women relate, or more rather how my 17 year old self was supposedly relating to boys.

“You’re around boys now…you’re gonna have feelings” That was it. I mean really? Note that before that point I went to an all girls school and was just now attending a co-ed institution. I tell you it was damn confusing. What were they shy about? Why did they have to be so…weird. It’s not like we didn’t cover the hard stuff in Biology class.

That is until my 7 year old asked me where babies came from, specifically how he was made and I squeaked in surprise and had to catch myself before I spun some tale about storks, or cabbage. Instead “Ask your Dad” I yelped. Only to have him tell them in the way that men do in the proud way they have.

“I put you in there.” pointing at my tummy, and then sent the kid right back to Mommy to find out the ins and outs and the hows.

Now what would I tell you if I told you that as a parent that that talk seems quite awkward and weird, age appropriate for a 7 year old though it was. Now don’t tell the tribesmen this but there is little more intimidating than a precocious, curious child on the cusp of pubescent change.  How do you arm them with all the things they need to know, all the ideals you would hope that they live by, without fracturing those rose colored glasses?

And don’t even get me started on those little hot messes they call friends and relatives who even at the tender ages of 8 and 9 informed my children of the Birds and bees. Giving all the clinical details and none of the ethics that come with the budding boobs or the hairy underarms.

After that first time odd experience, I found my kids has an awesome propensity for piping out their observations on the male/female thing, loudly and in public,and that the only tool I had in my arsenal was my honestly. So now we talk about  the places hair springs up, and the way things don’t grow in proportion to the rest of them, and the funky smells that come creeping before we kill them dead dead dead with soap, water, deodorant and a sometimes a liberal spritz of body spray.


We don’t very often get around to the social bits, things like sexual ethics and respect for our sexual selves. What we expect from our partners and what they should expect of us. I guess partly because I want a manling of 11 and a womanling of 9 to hold on to what little of the boy and girl they are before life wrestles it away. But that video might be good discussion point. Maybe not today, but later.


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