Sex talk

Oh it’s happened again and quite honestly, when you have as many children as I do (somewhere hovering around 17) these sorts of talks are bound to happen periodically. Once again one of my lovelies showed up and said “daddy, I think it’s time we had some sort of talk about sex.”

Well, I am one of those out and out liberal bozo sorts who thinks that open communication with your children is super important and for as long as I can remember I have had something of an open door policy. When Bingo, my very first son came to me many years ago and said, “papa I needs me to learn about them birds and bees” I made the idiotic mistake of taking him to the local zoo where we spent an entire day being bored nearly to death watching both birds and bees and not learning a damn thing.

Soon enough I did learn that when children are asking to learn about birds and bees, what they are really asking is, can you please tell us where babies come from. In fact, when Pineapple Becky was about 8 she asked me that very question. I told her too, which was a terrible mistake, because the next day her teacher, a crabby old hen named Mrs. Honkblower called me at about 9 in the morning, the start of their biology lesson and she sounded quite upset. “Did you talk to Pineapple Becky about where babies come from?” she asked me, upset and like some sort of authority. “Yes, I did,” I said. trying my best to wake up, because those were back in the days when I slept past 9AM. “Could you please tell me what you told her, because she just told the entire class that babies are purchased for a decent price at the local JCrew outlet.”

Again, I meant no harm, but for the life of me, I was pretty sure that was where we got Pineapple Becky and I did not want to lie. I hung up the phone and I did not see Mrs. Honkblower until parent-teacher conferences and she was drunk that evening and we pretended to respect one another.

Which brings me to this evenings encounter. Having a glut of children I have learned my lesson and I no longer hem and haw on the subject, when a child asks a question, I answer, no games, no lying, no nothing. So I was in the kitchen trying out my latest concoction of miso soup infused gluten free turkey flavored artichoke and rice pancakes when little miss knows everything wandered in and asked me, “daddy, I think it’s time we had some sort of talk about sex.”

I turned off the infuser and sat her down at the kitchen table, walked quietly out of the room, up the stairs, up the other stairs and came back down and sat across from her at the table. She sat blankly looking at me and after a few minutes she said, “what are you doing?”

“I’m inflating my Antonio Banderas Inflatable Love Doll, I’m going to answer your question, but I have to get this inflated first.” She just got up and left. Kids these days, they think they know everything.

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