I have to give my kids the Sex Talk. Yup, the Sex Talk. Turns out that the time between being a baby and having the ability to make one is really short. And if I don’t speak to them while they’re in their tweens, I apparently stand a fairly good chance of becoming a granny when they hit their teens.
That, my friends, is not happening. Not on my watch.
But here’s the thing: Not only am I obliged to introduce them to the wonders of human reproduction, I also need to ensure they have enough know-how to never ever ever take part in a rainbow party. You know, a rainbow party? You don’t? Google it. Despite being a so-called urban myth, I have reliable information of their existence. And no, not even I can bring myself to explain the details of what happens at these colourful gatherings. Except to say, “Eeewww!!”
So why is it that in spite of knowing all the ins and outs of baby-making, and being very aware that it’s my parental duty to pass on said knowledge, the problem remains that I simply don’t want to do it? No, not it. I’m very happy to do that. I mean It – the whole talk thing. Have all those formative years in Catholic school finally taken their toll? Has my vow to be the most modern and coolest of parents, who freely discusses all things sexual as if she was simply discussing the weather, come to nothing?
Or, is it just a fear of change? Because the Sex Talk changes everything, and I’m not sure I’m ready. Having just spent most of their childhood years ensuring they didn’t grow up too quickly – protecting their innocence, safeguarding their beliefs in all things supernatural, like chocolate-delivering rabbits and that jolly old man in the red suit – I’m not sure I want to be the one to shatter all their illusions. Call me old-fashioned, but I want them to carry on looking on me and their dad as a sweet princess and her handsome knight in shining armour. Instead of looking at us and thinking, well… Eeewww!
However, what needs to be said needs to be said, regardless of my excuses and objections and unwillingness. I am the adult in this relationship and I guess I’m just going to have to suck it up and spit it out. So to speak. No matter the inevitable slightly extremely awkward follow-up questions. Or the lecture I will no doubt receive as the realisation dawns on them that I may have told them a few porky pies about some of their other beliefs. I will put on my parental sex education hat and deliver the information in a mature and definitely non-giggling manner. I may even use diagrams and possibly a chart or two. This talk will happen whether I like it or not!
And just so you know, when the question arises as to whether or not we, their parents, still engage in such behaviour now that we are no longer making new children, I will answer loudly, clearly and very definitely with a resounding, “EEEWWW!”
