So my parenting alarms have been on high alert recently for some reason.
I think it’s because the oldest little bastard is nine now. He’s at that age where he starts learning things at school, which he brings home and kindly unleashes on to our seven-year-old daughter.
But for some reason all things related to sex have me feeling like I’m a sweaty crackhead in the middle of an intervention fumbling with my fingers, looking around paranoid as shit at everyone and everything near me.
Driving in the car the other day Kings of Leon, Sex on Fire came on and the boy’s singing the lyrics.
And I’m cringing, holding the steering wheel tight as can be as I hear a rare silence from the back seat. And all I can imagine is what’s going through his head….
Boy’s Head Thoughts:
“Oh look, something shiny. I should make a fart noise right now. Wonder if I have a booger? I really hate my sister. I wonder why my penis is bigger than my dad’s? I should ask for a play-date for the 438th time today. Hey….this is kind of a cool song. Sex? What’s sex? Let me ask…”
Thankfully that question never came out.
And then there’s the bedroom situation in our humble abode. Three bedrooms literally on top of each other.
You can hear EVERYTHING.
So we deck each room with fans to cut down on hearing the boy snore. Hearing the girl fart all night (not kidding). And to eliminate any sounds of the wife and I having our monthly “relations.”
But at the end of the day, our door still doesn’t lock and we have no idea what’s happening in the hallway on the other side of it.
I guess I could pipe Kenny G. into the hallway to force them to wear earplugs. I could set trip hazards connected to pots and pans. Or we could just move our location to the basement next to the cat litter box.
So many choices…
Regardless I’m fearful because I feel the older the kids get the stealthier things will need to be.
I’ll never forget coming home as a teenager and hearing one of my parents have relations with a step parent. It was one of the most horrifying experiences. So I exited the house, re-entered and slammed the ever-living-shit out of the door just to make damn sure they knew I was home.
I cock-blocked the hell out of them and don’t regret it to this very day.
So maybe the best thing to do is to retrain ourselves and the responses we have to sex to sound like we’re having the most interesting conversation in the entire world.
So as my curious little bastards stand in the hallway they hear their mother emotionally saying:
“That’s sooooo curious!!”
“OH MY GOD!!!! I remember that time too!”
“Yes, yes, YES!! We can take the kids to Disney World if they stay in their rooms at night!!”
Or hear their daddy grunting:
“Oh, oh, oh those shoes match your outfit perfectly!”
“Yes, keep doing that to your hair cause it’s beautiful.”
“Oh my god I think I’m going to come to your holiday party this year!!”
But in reality we all know the real new retrained phrases will be:
Wife: “Are you done ironing your clothes yet?”
Me: “I’m sorry, I thought I’d last longer than that at scrabble.”