Tuesday, December 9
the prehistoric birds and petrified bees
So I can blog now about the big event in Big O's life two weeks ago.
He asked a girl to the movies.
Ultimately, she said no, but this opened up a whole new world of issues I thought that I had a few years to prep for.
On Sunday I finally broached the subject with him, that maybe thirteen is a little young for a one on one date. Maybe a group thing would be more age appropriate. My punk-ass son smirked at me and said that times change, and maybe when (dinosaurs roamed the earth) I was a kid that was the case. He didn't actually use the dinosaur line, but it was all there in his smirk.
For his insolence he's getting the sex talk from his MOTHER. Are there photos on line of horrible venereal disease rotted penises (Penii?) somewhere online? Maybe I'll give him a box of condoms in his stocking. There were kids having sex in junior high twentymphmph years ago when I went. I am fully aware that it happens. But I can't think of a better eeww factor than having your mom talk about it. With pictures. (I think even I would have to draw the line at demonstrating how to put one on. Not yet. Not at thirteen.)