Oh How I Dread "The Talk"

This past weekend I’ve been doing the pool hardcore-style.

School starts Wednesday for the little bastards so I figured I’d try to get into the wet-stuff as much as I possibly could. The pool that is...

As I slide my white-assed self into the pool waters and started tossing the little nippers around I quickly noticed…holy shit, there’s a lot of teenagers around here. And like being thrown into a warp-speed, throw-your-head-back kinda light-year geeky TV-effect I was projected to 2020 - my daughter’s 15, wearing a bikini, at the pool and I’m in the corner clutching a beer crying while thinking, “I really really need to have ‘The Talk’ with her.”

I’m scared shitless of “The Talk.”

I’ll never forget my dad giving us “The Talk.” I was 12 (I think), which would have made my brother 14.

My dad was all liquored-up and probably felt it was time for my brother to hear about the birds and the bees so shit, why not the younger brother too?!

Long story short, for the next year or so, I was confident sex was when a man lays next to his wife, places his penis inside her, then they both go to sleep. That’s right…with the penis still inside her.

And I remember I had two HUGE questions.

1) What happens if the dude has to go pee in the middle of the night?

2) What the hell does a jack-o-lantern have anything to do with sex?

To this day when someone says jack-o-lantern I suddenly become 12 again and hear my dad say, “and then the man jack-o-lanterns into her.”

A part of me feels like when it’s time for “The Talk” I should just find a picture of a penis, hold it up in front of the kids and wait two minutes till everything in the room feels really awkward.

Then I’ll turn to the girl and say, “this is a penis. Boys have the penis. If a boy shows you his penis, I’ll kill him. If a boy talks about his penis to you, I’ll kill him. If you touch a penis, I’ll kill you and him. There is no need for you to see, touch, talk about, experience, or go near the penis until you graduate college.”

Then I’ll turn to the boy and say, “if your sister sees, touches or comes near a penis, I’ll kill you. If you see or hear-of anyone coming near your sister, thinking of your sister, or dreaming of your sister with their penis, tell me and I’ll kill them.”

Then, I’ll buy them both some new music, hug them, and send them on their way.

OK, I’m exaggerating…but I’m also kind of not.

I’m thankful to have plenty of time to plot my war-plan to protect my kids’ innocence as best I can, while making sure I arm them with enough knowledge so that when they do fuck up, it’s not life altering.

In the meantime, I’m just going to enjoy tossing them around in the pool and watch them fight with all their might to come right back to my open arms.



Ode to the Dangly Shoelace

Despite the fact my son can do multiplications…he can’t tie his shoe.

Despite the fact he knows monsters aren’t real,

Isn’t scared of the dark,

And can rip a worm in half on a fishing trip …he can’t tie his shoe.

We went cross-country skiing this past weekend,

From the seat of my ass,

Deeply implanted in the snow,

He stood there coaching me to “use your polls to go!!,”

But he can’t tie his shoe.

He’ll steal sushi from your plate if you’re dozing for a second or two,

But he can’t tie his shoe.

He can wipe his own ass….but he can’t tie his shoe.

He’ll tell a complete stranger Happy Birthday,

Climb a tree faster than me,

Be on my front wheel on a 15-mile bike ride,

Throw himself in a pool whether he’ll swim or come in with the tide,

But he still….can’t tie his shoe.

He calls his sister his “enemy,”

Until I see him lying next to her laughing.

He’ll put tacks on the floor,

Won’t bother to hold a door,

And tell me “you’re mean!” when I punish him.

Yesterday he held his foot out with his regular pitiful look,

His knot-tying plea,

I said, “you’re seven, why don’t you tie your own shoe!”

He said,

“Cause everyone always does it for me.”

My son can tie his own shoe.