I’ve been preparing for The Sex Talk with my kids since, oh I don’t know, about week one of Ben’s life or so. It’s always been expected that with my background in nursing and my dabbling into virology/bacteriology the task of embarrassing the bejesus out of our children When The Time Comes. I have a powerpoint planned, honestly, with plenty of disgusting images of genital warts, gonorrhea, chlamydia (o! the search terms that will come).
If they’re gonna hump anyway, I might as well make them DAMN aware of the risks.
Anywhoo, when I got pregnant with Alex, I realized that pulling out a picture of a wart covered weenis was probably overkill, considering he didn’t even know that he himself had testicles. It didn’t matter, at age 5, he wanted to know where babies come from.
Fair question, considering he knew he’d be a big brother soon enough.
The brilliance and perhaps the best part of having my kid be on the autistic spectrum when it comes to these sorts of things is his detachedness (it’s also what makes me want to pull my hair out when I want a hug from him). It makes the telling of these sorts of things a snap, because he has very little emotional response. He accepts things at face value and comes back later on to ask any questions he’s thought of.
Ben is such a literal person, that we decided that the best manner to explain where babies come from is a book. This book.
Diligently we read this with him each and every night, carefully explaining such words as “anus,” “labia,” and “ovary,” and he soaked it up like a wee sponge. The only thing that ever seemed to vex him was how the baby got from the inside to the outside. No answer seemed to assuage his curiosity, and eventually he decided that the most likely exit point–despite my assurances that the baby would come out of my vagina–was through a cut in my belly button.
Well, now that THIS was taken care of, he set about really LEARNING about the baby makin’ crap. And the best way for Ben to learn anything is through singing, so the songs that he would come up with had a decidedly hilarious subject matter.
This one was my favorite, sung in no particular tune:
“There was an egg, sitting in the fallopian tube and a sperm came along and BAM! there was me!”
Thankfully for my delicate sensibilities, I didn’t have to ever explain HOW the sperm from the dad got into the body of the mom, because seriously, he would tell everyone he ever met about that. He just seemed to accept that the sperm somehow got there and that was that.
It went a hell of a lot smoother than the inevitable Sex Talk will, that’s for certain. And I hope, at the very least, that by the time we do have the Sex Talk, he will have outgrown the singing to learn. Because if not, I may shrivel up into a puddle of goo if I have to hear him sing about, “Syphilis is a sexually transmitted disease caused by the spirochetal bacterium Treponema pallidum, and it’s primary form is a chancre.”
What kind of sex talk are you planning on having with your children? Any?