Monday, May 23, 2011

The Birds and the Bees for Pee-Wees

How young is too young to start talking to our kids about sex? Is it two? Is two the right age? Because if it's two, then I'm doing all right.

Fifi and Vance had been at the park with their dad, where they ran into their friend and his pregnant mother. I'm assuming that is the reason that the first words out of Fifi's mouth when she saw me next were, "Mom, will you ever be pregnant again?" After retrieving my tonsils from my lungs, where they had become embedded due to the size and strength of my gasp, I said sweetly, "No, honey, I'm not going to be pregnant again."

Next thing I know I'm playing twenty questions. But instead of being confined to the answers "yes" or "no," I've suddenly got words like "insemination" on the table. In my humble opinion, I think I handled it pretty darn well. It's one of those things we might try to prepare for (or not, as the case may be), but we can't ever really see this conversation coming.

In response to Fifi's numerous and probing questions, I clued her in to the fact that Mommies and Daddies make babies together when they want to (and when they're ready and in their thirties and living on their own and have financial stability and therefore entirely responsible for themselves, do you hear what I'm saying little girl?!). I was forced to go so far as to use the terms "egg" and "seed." (I briefly contemplated whether or not the seed route was the best choice. But a quick flash forward to Fifi skipping around the playground singing a song about "sperm" told me it was a wise choice.)

During this whole conversation, Vance sat right next to me and hung on my every word just as Fifi did. And my husband just made a sandwich in the kitchen and did not offer even the tiniest shred of assistance. Though, honestly, it was awkward enough as it was. I cannot even imagine how painful it might have been had he and I tried to tackle this one together.

Our conversation began to wrap up when Fifi asked if all boys had seeds and whether or not she had eggs already. I answered affirmatively and assured her that neither the seeds nor eggs would come into play until she was a grown up. (Which wasn't necessarily a stretch since Fifi thinks she'll be able to drive a car at age 8. It's all relative.) Vance didn't like my answer, though, and started chanting, "No seeds in me! No seeds in me!" vehemently pointing at his belly.

Have I corrupted my children or confused them more? It's hard to say. I'm banking on the theory that the more naturally parents discuss sex with their kids, the more comfortable and informed the kids will be when it really matters. Be sure to check back in twenty-eight or so years to find out just how well this theory of mine worked.

No comments:

Post a Comment