- Any time I’m in the car with them and they start talking to me, I slowly turn up the radio until I can’t hear them and shout “WHAT?!? I CAN’T HEAR YOU! THE RADIO IS UP TOO LOUD! WAIT, I’LL TURN IT DOWN!”. I then turn it down, wait for them to start talking and slowly begin to turn it up again.
- I put hot sauce on most of my food just to keep them from asking for bites.
- I tell them that the baddest of the “bad words” is the X-word. I also tell them anytime we pass a person pulled over by the police that the person the cop is talking to probably got caught saying the X-word and will most likely be going to jail for it.
- When I see them in a situation where they’ll most likely get hurt, I judge how bad the accident will be and if it doesn’t seem like it’ll be too bad I just sit back and see how it goes.
- Anytime I hear “Where’s Mama?” I tell them that she left for Hawaii (or some other far off location) and I that can’t believe that she forgot to say anything about it.
- I sometimes explain the most mundane of natural phenomenons in the most terrifyingly Lovecraftian way I can come up with at the moment, wait for the horror to really sink in and then tell them the truth.
Sometimes children ask awkward questions. As a parent I’m use to coming up with answers to these questions though I will admit that if the question is overly embarrassing or if the child asking the question isn’t old enough to handle the truth I’ll answer with the most technical language I can muster so as to baffle the poor child’s mind, or I make something up. Mostly I make something up…
Anyway, yesterday I heard a plaintive cry for help coming from my wife who was in the bedroom with our four year-old, Demon Spawn.
“What? What is it?” I asked as I walked in. The first thing I noticed as I looked around was the panic-stricken look on my poor wife’s face.
“He wants to know what a vagina looks like,” she nodded at Demon Spawn, who was sitting quietly awaiting the answer.
“Whoa! Why did you call for me?!?! You’re the one that has one!”
“Well I’m not going to show him mine!”
“I’m not saying that, it’s just you… You know. It’s your part. You’re more… I mean, you’ve got the…” I’ve never pointed at my wife’s crotch that much in a single sitting before and I probably never will again.
“I don’t sit around looking at it! And you’ve seen more of them than I have!”
“I don’t know what you think my sex life was…”
“No! I mean porn!”
“NOTHING!” my wife and I screamed at the same time.
We both looked over at Demon Spawn who was visibly swelling from the energy produced from the chaos he caused.
I took a deep breath, calmed my nerves and tried to answer, “Well buddy, a va… a vagina…” I could feel the collective disappointment of every feminist in the world as I said “vagina” as if it was the dirtiest of all dirty words. “It looks like…,” and again the disappointment as I realized any and every description of a vagina that came to mind was from filthy jokes I’ve heard while fishing/hunting/working construction/ect.. “Sweetie?”
Nothing but a wide-eyed shake of the head from that direction.
“Well, uh… Did Momma tell you we’re going bowling tomorrow after I cut the grass? And to the park!”
“We’re going bowling?!?!?”
“Yay!” and he ran out the room.
“So,” my wife looked at me. “We’re going bowling tomorrow?”
“Yep, that’s what it looks like.”
OK, I can answer this.
“That? That is tampon.”
Maybe that’ll be…
Oh dear God NO!
“Well, um… You know how a baby is made?”
Please let him remember. I don’t want to have that talk too. Please let him remember.
“So, the momma makes the egg in the ovary… No, not like a chicken egg.”
Is this kid fucking with me?
“You were joking. Do you want to know or what?”
Say no. Say no and walk away. Please just walk away.
“Alright then, um, the egg goes from the ovary, down the fallopian tube, to the uterus, where the baby grows if the egg gets fertilized.”
Wait, I think I got this. It’s just biology. I know biology.
“If the egg doesn’t get fertilized by a certain time the egg and the… uterine… wall?”
Oh shit, I don’t have this, I have no idea how this part happens.
“Um, anyway it, uh… The egg comes out in a bloody mess and the tampon is like an insertable band-aid that keeps women from bleeding in their pants.”
Oh sweet baby Jesus, did I just say that? What the hell?
Oh no, what is… Oh, I, I think am actually watching what it looks like when a mental scar forms.
“Why don’t you go watch TV buddy. I’ll make you some hot chocolate”