“The Talk”

I sit between my two children on the futon, on a Sunday morning, with a book I remember from childhood in my lap. 

A book I remember sneaking out of my father’s den to read with friends, and I wonder now, decades later, how many kids did I teach about sex through the cartoon illustrations in “Where Did I Come From?” 

I remember the sperms dressed in bowties and top hats swimming towards the egg, the pictures of the frumpy husband and wife standing naked as the book described the different aspects of male and female bodies, the page that shows them in bed, the man on top--as if that’s the only way-- the way I felt when I peeked at those pages, a mixture of curiosity, embarrassment, excitement, and dread. 

And now, with my daughter almost seven, my son almost thirteen, but developmentally behind his sister, I plan on opening their minds to the true story of where they come from.

I want them to hear about sex from me and Nick, not from the whispered words of peers at school, not from a google search gone astray, not from a dry curriculum designed to inform with a subtext of fear, and so I ordered this childhood book of mine, with its familiar pictures and words (“Dad got me from the saloon” under an illustration of a baby in a beer mug pinching his father’s big red nose) as a guide to start the discussion.

Nick and I had our own “sex talk” first, mostly thinking of Elias, a middle-schooler now, surrounded by blooming adolescents, with bodies maturing, and minds open to whatever happens to fall into them from social media, television, older siblings, church, conversations overheard, and we realized we needed to have “the talk” with our first born before someone else does and he comes home parroting someone else’s words.

 “Mom, mom, do you know what a pussy is?”

(Oh wait, he might have heard that from me..)

“Its another name for a cat. Your Dad’s allergic. Lets move on…”

At first we didn't think Olive was ready. Too young. Too innocent. And yet the more I contemplated it, especially in the current political time of sexual molestation minimized, of “sex” as a dirty word in the news, I thought, but sex can be innocent too, in the way that anything natural can be, and so why not introduce her to the beauty and science of it while she is young, and save the more complex conversations for another year.

So here we sit, with the secrets of sex awaiting. “This book explains how you both got to be in my tummy,” I say. “Its ok to ask questions as I read.”

Neither of my children appear nervous or worried or embarrassed. 

(Feelings that still linger in me when I attempt to discuss sexuality, along with the feeling of shame— butt-loads of shame that I’ve slowly shoveled over the years.)

And why should they? They don't yet know to be. They haven't absorbed our society’s mixed messages about sex. Use it in every advertisement. Don't talk about it. Men want it. Women embody it. Don't teach children about it. Blame adolescents for getting it wrong.

I begin to read Peter Mayle's words: We wrote this book because we thought you’d like to know exactly where you came from, and how it all happened… 

I turn the pages, adding text of my own when the perspective seems too male.

(Mayle writes: By this time the man wants to get as close to the woman as he can, because he's feeling very loving to her. I add: And she wants to get as close to him as possible because she's feeling very loving to him.) 

My children listen, Nick sits on the edge of the futon, and we only have to clarify that you can’t actually see the sperm, like tadpoles, in the semen without a high-powered microscope, otherwise, when the book closes, Olive returns to her cartwheels and Elias his specific comments about elevators, and the earth never shatters, nor their sense of themselves in the world, just a deeper understanding of a normal part of who we are as people who love, who procreate, who evolve to accept sex as an expression of living.

Good as it is, you just can't do it all day long.

I know more complicated discussions await. I’m just happy we started the conversation. And if Olive ever sneaks the book from the shelf to show her friends, I hope their parents will forgive me.

Comments

[Susan]

How cool! We also have talks, and books scattered around. You'll enjoy the Robie Harris series (It's Not the Stork/It's So Amazing/It's Perfectly Normal) all about physical development, sex, bodies....and to my surprise I have discovered that the American Girl series books on puberty, friendship etc are all quite well done.

Nothing better than good books and good conversations, over and over and over.

[Christy]

Susan, thank you for the recommendation of the Robie Harris books; I'll check them out next. And yes, over and over again:)

[Alexandra Heidinger]

I remember that book! We definitely snuck it off the shelf! I don't remember those words, but the illustrations stuck in my head.

[Mom and Dad]

We kept that book obvious so you and your friends would check it out. We weren't hiding it!