Such is the craziness of my life that the sex talk we had with Golfer last week is only managing to find it’s way on the blog today.
And, to be fair, it wasn’t THE sex talk. At 9, we haven’t really gone there yet. But as will often happen, one comment led to another, and Hubby and I found ourselves discussing sex with Golfer in the middle of watching the Nuggets game.
I don’t believe in sitting down and planning for the official ‘talk’, because 1) I’d sound awfully nerdy and totally nervous, 2) my kids naturally tune anything out that is staged like that, and 3) I don’t want to overthink it. I tend to overshare when I plan a speech rather than let it spring organically from a situation.
As luck would have it, one of the Nuggets got tagged in his nuggets during the game. I pointed out, “Golfer, you’ve got to keep those things safe, you know? You can’t be too careful when playing sports…you wouldn’t want to damage your babymakers.”
Because we haven’t broached this subject before, Golfer didn’t know to avoid walking into the trap. “Babymakers? What?”
“Yeah, your balls (sorry, not the proper term, but now isn’t the time to get all boring and technical) make the sperm, and the sperm make the baby!”
He started looking suspiciously uncomfortable.
Hubby jumped in. “Girls have the eggs, and we have the sperm. It takes those two things to make the baby.”
Golfer turned his back on us and pretended to watch the game.
Hubby pressed on. “Do you know about any of that stuff? Babymaking stuff? Sex stuff?”
I tagged in. “Yeah! What do you know about sex?”
Golfer slowly turned back around and said, “What kind of sex do you mean?”
This caught us off guard. OMGosh, is he talking about positions? And I didn’t even know he knew what it was? Hubby and I looked at each other. It was our turn to get uncomfortable. We started giggling at each other. When this happens, I talk as little as possible while asking tons of questions back at them.
“What do you mean, what kind? What kind are you talking about? How many kinds of sex do YOU know?” we asked. (giggle, giggle)
“I know it takes two people. And one of them has to be pretty” Golfer said.
(giggle, giggle) Hubby said, “You’re on to something, there, buddy.” (giggle, giggle) I shoved the testosterone aside and added, “So you have pretty people…then what happens?”
Golfer rolled his eyes, wishing he were far away from his giggling parents. “Well, mom. Then you have Hot S*x.”
Hubby and I weren’t giggling anymore, we were howling. It took quite a while for us to control our laughter. I was crying, I was laughing so hard. Golfer went back to the game while we composed ourselves.
I piped up, “Golfer, what happens if they aren’t pretty?”
Golfer sighed, continuing to watch the game, “That’s why I asked you what kind of sex you were talking about.”
Hubby whispered (giggle, giggle), “They must have not hot s*x…”
(giggle, giggle) “So, Golfer, do they have hot sex? Or do you have to be pretty for that? Huh? Huh?”
He ignored me, rightfully.
I couldn’t delve any further into the subject, I could barely talk through the giggles. I poked Hubby hard in the side, “This is because of all the super bowl commercials, and ads they show in basketball games. Hot sex and pretty girls? He doesn’t even know what sex IS, and he’s talking like THAT?!”
Hubby pleaded the 5th.
We wiped the tears from our eyes, and finished watching the game.
Next time we have a talk like this, maybe I will prepare a little more.
(* added to keep pervy search terms from bringing this up)
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