The other day one of my daughter’s friends were over and mentioned that Sponge Bob sometimes talks about “S – E – X”. My daughter turns and asks…”Mom, what’s that mean?” So I quickly tell her I’ll talk to you about it later as my stomach goes into my throat and I realize that it’s time to face this conversation after trying to avoid it for the past year!
As her and her friend are playing, my husband and I are discussing my plan of attack on how to handle this conversation. He thinks I should go all scientific, but I think the less I tell her the better, at this age anyway. We discuss how I should say it and then whole time I’m laughing and realizing I’m not a mature enough adult to talk about this stuff with my daughter! My husband reassures me that I’ll do a good job and to not be specific… just tell the facts and move on.
So, it’s time… time to tell my daughter about the birds and the bees.
Whew… I’m not ready for this!
“Hey Pixie! Come sit outside with me, I want to talk to you about something.” “So, do you know what sex means?” Pixie responds with “it means like someone that looks good… like being sexy”.
I tell her no, that’s different. So then I tell her what the technical names of our parts are because somehow I’ve always referred to it as our “Junk”. I know, I’m an awful parent! You can judge if you want.
So… I tell her what the technical names of our “junk” and then I tell her that like a garden where you plant seeds, a guy has to plant a seed into a lady so we can have a baby. So the ….. goes into the …… She gives me this disgusted look and then yells “DID DADDY DO THAT TO YOU!!!???” I say “yes, but look now we have you because of it”. She jumps up angry and throws her hands in the air and says “I’m too young to know this stuff! I can’t believe you told me this!”
Being the great parent I am, I cannot stop laughing through the whole conversation. I’m like a little kid in study hall talking when I should be quite. I feel like I’m in a different body as I try to stay serious, but my inner middle school child comes out and cannot stop laughing.
So, in a panic as she runs outside I yell… “Just like Santa Claus, sex is another thing that YOU don’t tell others about… let their parents do that!” Oh, and I end the conversation with… “Remember, you can always come to me if you have questions.”
The entire time my husband is in the house laughing his butt off at me and my mad parenting skills!
Well… it’s done. The talk has been had. If she wants to know more she knows I’m here and available to talk about it.
Sometimes we don’t do everything right in parenting. Just like in life. Just like in art! Man, I have made some mistakes! More than I like to admit, but I think the lesson here is to just keep trying. Keep trying in life, keep trying in art.
And for goodness sakes….. tell your children the “technical” names of your body parts WAY earlier than I did!