I always knew one day I’d have to have “the talk” with my child. I wanted to because my parents never really said anything to me on the subject, and I didn’t really want my boy to learn about the birds and the bees via the kids at school. And, of course, I knew I’d have to deal with whatever his dad said to him about it as well, and who knows what that might be since his parenting approach is nothing like mine. However, I had no idea that when the time came, it would play out the way it did.
A couple of weeks ago my 10-year old son informed me that he and his dad had a talk. When I asked what they talked about, he said “where babies come from.” Wait…what? A little heads-up would have been nice. You know, a text that said “FYI: Our son asked how babies are made and I told him, so get ready for questions.” Alas, that didn’t happen.
That being said, I was curious as to what my ex had told our child. Especially since when previously asked where babies come from, my standard response had always been “the hospital.” (Which, by the way, had always seemed to be okay with the boy, since he hadn’t probed further.) I waited for my son to speak. Finally, he looks at me and says, “I have a question about it, Mom.”
“Sure, baby. What is it?”
“WHY WOULD YOU AND DAD DO THAT?!?” You could hear the absolute disgust in his voice.
“Because we were trying to have you,” I replied.
“No you weren’t. It’s disgusting! No boy areas should be near girl areas ever! If I have children, I’m going to have them the other way.”
Um…the other way? I had no idea what this other way might be, and frankly, by this point, I was afraid to ask. As it turns out, the other way is “when you go to the doctor and he uses a needle.” Well, okay then. I can’t wait to meet my future daughter-in-law, the amazing lady who is going to allow this to happen.
But back to this harrowing (and hilarious) tale…
At this point, I am trying to hardest to not laugh hysterically at my child. It’s not easy, because I find his absolute repulsion to be funny beyond words. He then continues to let me know how “disgusting” all of it is, punctuated with a few more questions of “why did you two do that?!?”
Finally, after about fifteen minutes of ranting, he looks at me and says, “Mom, I am completely dramatized!”
I hugged him, asked him if he felt better (he said he did – he just needed to talk to me about it), and sent him to get ready for bed. Then I promptly went outside to laugh my face off.
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