By: Carlee Karanovic
There is nothing quite like seeing your darling child grow up. And there is no better measuring stick to chart this growth like that sweet cherubic being learning the facts of life. Or in my case, nothing funnier. Hands down, it was the best laugh I’ve ever experienced, only I had to hold that laughter in until after the very serious discussion we had going over the FACTS. I couldn’t have my son traumatized by his mother’s amusement at his horror over something he would one day have to experience in the flesh.
But first, some background.
My husband has a very real, very strong fear of our children growing up too fast. Because of this, he babies my babies who are no longer babies. While I was trying to teach my kids to drink from a cup, he would give them bottles as soon as I left the room. My kids are big now, and have finally mastered drinking liquid from something other than a nipple, but my 8 year old still sneaks her bedtime milk in a sippy cup, saved for her by my fraidy-cat husband. So you can imagine how truly horrified he was when we received the letter from school that sex education was not only mandatory, but the children would be learning about sex and all its glory the next week.
Loving husband ranted for days about how he learned that stuff when it was time. His “kids were too young. The school shouldn’t interfere. Maybe he would keep him home from school.” So I silently nodded along with him, tucked the letter away, and waited for him to forget. Which he did. And I sent my son to school to get the information, cold. He had a sweater, relax. What I mean is that I gave him no warning about what he was going to learn that day. I wanted to see his reaction. And it was golden, I tell you. Golden.
Dear son and his classmates put away their books and gave their full attention to the professional sex educator and got the shock of a lifetime. Apparently, all of the other parents sent their kids into the class with zero foreknowledge too. Son told me everyone was shocked, sat at the desks slack-jawed and confused. Still, the professional plowed on, and my little boy came home with a TON of questions.
At first he went to his dad for answers. Big mistake. Huge. Husband was livid about the class. And after his face morphed from purple, to red, and back to normal again, he told my son, and I’m not kidding here, that the information was all a lie and that my son was brought to earth on a golden chariot from the sky, pulled by six white flying horses with golden wings. Thankfully, my son has more sense than to listen to his father. He immediately rejected this nonsense and came to me for real answers.
We quietly went upstairs to his room, closed the door, and he took a deep breath before getting straight to his questions. The conversation went like this…
Son: Is there any other way to get a baby?
Me: You can adopt.
Me: That’s right.
Son: So you and Dad did that?
Me: We just talked about how there is no other way, and I have two kids.
Son: (with disgust) You did it TWICE?!
I bit back my laughter and nodded, waiting for him to calm down.
Son: The lady said you have to do it in a private place. Where do you find one?
Me: Well, usually you are an adult when you do this, like when you’re married. So you’d have a house. Just close the curtains. It’s not like you’re doing it on the street for the neighbors to see.
Son: So not at the mall?
Me: Definitely not at the mall.
I have no idea why he thought sex happened at the mall, or why this would be his first thought of a private place.
Son: What I really want to know is: how do you get the penis in the vagina?
Me: You and every other man on the planet.
Son: Like, how do you get the vagina to open up?
Me: Again, like every other man on the planet. It’s not a clam shell shut tight, Son. If the woman wants to have sex, she’ll open up for the man.
I might have quickly wiped some tears away, as I’m pretty sure I was about to explode from holding in my laughter.
Me: It sounds like your teacher did a good job explaining the parts involved with sex, but you need to understand there are a lot of feelings to go along with it. In fact, sex is almost all about feelings. And it hurts for most girls the first time they have sex. It hurts a lot. But not so much for boys, it seems.
Son: Yes! I’m a boy! *fist in the air with glee*
Me: But it doesn’t last very long for the boy the first time.
Son: Double yes! I’m a boy! *another fist in the air with glee*
This was when I had to leave the room, find a closet to hide in, and laughed so hard I literally peed my pants.
So, if you have a child about to take sex education classes at school, I urge you to tell them nothing beforehand, because the response will be soooooooo worth it.
What's that smell? A lot of pants on fire. pic.twitter.com/bVK0FnJgeB
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