About the birds & the bees

My daughter is going to be 12 soon. And my hubby has decreed that it's time to give her 'the talk'.

I hate that concept. That 'the talk' is a one-time thing. That you have to give it all to them at once. Sit them down and beat them over the head with the facts of life, so to speak.

My daughter and I talk pretty freely. She's still at the age where she thinks mom knows a thing or two. I dread the next couple of years... I know that will change! But for now, she asks me things when she has a question. And when she asks, I go into more detail on related topics, until she indicates that she has done all the listening she cares to do.

Then I stop. Because I'm not the beat-them-over-the-head type.

But I admit, I've been fearing 'the talk'. Because I know there are things she won't ask me. And I really don't know how and where to begin with it.

Yes I do know the details. I just have no experience in how to explain them to a kid that age. Because MY talks from MY parents? Went like this.

Talk #1 - with mom. End of 7th grade.

Mom: (filling out Lara's summer camp forms) You do know about menstruation, right?
Lara: (who learned in 5th grade health classes & from asking questions of a cousin) Yes.

End of talk #1.

Talk #2 - with dad. Summer break, sometime during college years. I forget the lead-in topic. Thank goodness for small blessings.

Dad: Sex should wait until marriage.
Lara: (no comment. Silently wondering why I'm getting 'the talk' at age 20!)
Dad: Your mom and I are old, but we still enjoy it.
Lara: (still no comment. I really don't want to think about this!)

End of talk #2. Whew!

So you see, my only experience with having the talk personally was only helpful in what NOT to do.

I sort of gave 'the talk' to my oldest son, probably when he was a 4th grader or so. The hubby wasn't too happy about that - apparently it's the father's job. So he conveniently forgot about that, and only remembers how HE gave both boys their talk.

But really, I did it first. Blondie & I were at a mall. He wandered off, as he typically does. And when I found him, in a panicked voice I told him, "You can't just wander off. If I lose you, your father will want me to replace you, and I am NOT having more kids."

Dumb statement, I know. Because he is a bright kid. And his immediate answer? "So how do you keep from having kids?"

Yeah, definitely the topic you want to cover in the center of a shopping mall. But I knew he wasn't going to be put off any longer; I'd been putting him off ever since he was in kindergarten and watched a PBS show on fertilization showing videos of sperm swimming and banging their poor little heads into eggs.

Or maybe it was earlier when he was 3 or 4, sitting in the bathtub. He noticed his stiffy, and asked me, "Does it have a bone in it?"

"Sometimes."