I had no idea that S-E-X and the Easter Bunny would share some time together. That has been on my mind this week. The talk that I have been finding every excuse in the world not to have. Here it is. It is time. I thought there would be more fanfare. More time to prepare. Less questions. Much less awkwardness, and discomfort on my part. I am the mother. I am the adult. I thought I could be matter of fact, and teach my girls something I know they are already hearing frightening bits about behind green pleather seats on the school bus. Yet here it is. The simple word. Olivia spelled it. S-E-X the other morning. I poured my coffee, gulped, and turned on my heel, and pasted on a big, weird, smile. "Do you know what sex is Olivia?"
Did I really want her to answer? I thought my wonderful tale of her father and I falling in love, complete with birds tying ribbons in my hair, and a wish we made together for a baby was sufficient. Magically, the baby was placed in my body, and grew, until she was ready to emerge, and there you have it. She has bought it all these years. Or has she? She will be in 3rd grade next year. Oh Gosh....I have put this talk off way too long. I knew about everything by 3rd grade!! Everything!! I knew my parents did some sort of adult movements, behind closed bedroom doors, at least twice!
My mother gave me a book, entitled How Babies are Born. It was really cute. Pictures of puppies and kittens. A baby horse, and piglets. It explained everything. How the egg is fertilized. How the cell divides. Even the proper scientific terms. I got it. I more than got it. I knew more biological terms than any other 2nd grader. Yet my mother skipped one detail. I remember being in the living room. It was a beautiful sunny day. My mother looked so relieved, and pleased, at my understanding of every detail of how a baby was born.
"How does the sperm get to the egg"? I remember her smile, fading from her face. She turned quickly, and took a hard covered book off the shelves. One page was dogeared. There was actually pen marks around a paragraph. "Read this", was all she said. And I did. And I remember feeling so embarrassed. The kind of embarrassment that makes you wish yourself to shrink up, and disappear. My mother looked at me, and said "Any more questions?"...."No." That was it for me. I got it.
So today, I guess in my free moments, I will research how other parents have done this. I will see how much I should say, without saying too much. I will be thankful that Brownies is tonight, and put this conversation off another night, knowing the whole time that the perfect opportunity to talk to her, is when we are alone in the car this evening. And I will listen to her chatter about Easter, and what the Bunny will bring, and wonder, how did we get here?
Just when I thought I had hit a bit of a stride with my girls, they go and swith it up on me.