... Psych! Just kidding. I'm not going to talk to you about sex. But in lieu of my son's upcoming Maturation Program (which I will attend with him), I feel I just need to express a few things. Mainly, how unreasonably excited I am for this event!
Now you're thinking, "Wow, this must be what it's like to find out someone you know is a child molester. I understand now why everyone always says 'I never would have expected it!'" But before you go calling Child Protective Services on me and whatnot, allow me to explain myself.
My excitement is not based on the fact that there will be much talk about the anatomy and physiology of a male's and female's bodies. My excitement comes from knowing that I have been handed the golden ticket to escort my son and all the boys in his 5th grade class to Major-Embarrassmentville. How could I, with the sense of humor that I have been graced (cursed?) with, pass up an opportunity like this? I'm already getting to work on the material that I will hiss out anonymously as different topics are brought up and different slides are shown. In a couple of days, I'll begin practicing in front of the mirror to hone my nonchalance and my "innocent" face. This elementary will never know what hit them. I can not wait!!!
I am prompted to share an experience I had with The Boy today as he came home with his permission slip, allowing him to attend said program. Of course, he seemed embarrassed by the idea of the whole thing. I explained to him that there is no reason to be embarrassed, that this little presentation is only there to help educate him about the changes that his body and the bodies of his peers will make as they grow up. I went on to stress the importance of understanding what his body will be going through, that it will help him to not feel so stressed, uncomfortable, or strange when puberty decides to rear its ugly head.
We try not to shy around the appropriate names of body parts in this house. Husband and I feel that too many people are embarrassed or ashamed to use words like "testicles", "breasts", "penis", etc., in situations where these terms are necessary -- however, this doesn't mean that these words don't make us giggle sometimes. If that's wrong, then I don't want to be right. Anyway, this is how we've tried to raise The Boy. So when he asked me, "Um, why is it that women have breasts?" I wasn't shocked or surprised. I answered like so, "Well, a woman is the one who can become pregnant and have a baby. Breasts are used to make milk, which will feed the baby. That's about all they do."
If you know children, you know that their minds move very rapidly. By the end of my answer, The Boy's mind had moved on to think I was referring to women now, not just breasts. He immediately says, "That's not true! They make dinner, they clean the house, they do all sorts of things!"
Imagine my confusion as I stated, "What?! Breasts don't make dinner!!"
We shared a look, and then The Boy said, "Well, they do for babies!"
Ah, this is what being a parent is all about.
