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. 
It's ON.
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.) 


Sayre said...

That's what bananas and cucumbers are for - demonstration purposes.

I'm kind of dreading the day we have to go there, but in a way we've been going there for years. He would kill me if he knew I was about to say this, but he got a boner in Barnes and Noble a couple of weeks ago (he's 9). When I came out of the bathroom, I found him doubled up outside the door. When I asked him what was wrong, he explained that he'd suddenly gone all stiff. It went away, but we stayed back in the bathroom hallway until he felt comfortable walking out into the store. My husband and I tend to seize on such opportunities to talk about things. I hope he's a little more respectful when his time comes, but I don't think being talked to by mom will actually dissuade him...

Maria said...

Liv is nine and it won't be long for me before we have to discuss bras and then her "moon time" as my Grandmother called it or "my aunt's visiting" as my mother called it.

I think I will just call it what I always did...: BLECK time.

Rose said...

You could let him watch this exerpt from Weeds...with you of course...it pretty much covers terminology and a little guidance on solo techniques.


I had to tell both of my sons the facts. Their dad was inept. I must have done a pretty good job. My oldest is 35 and my youngest is 32....and damnit I am grandchildrenless.