By Lorry Myers
We were inexperienced parents, uncertain about the appropriate age to talk with a child about the facts of life. So, my husband and I decided early on that we would take our cue from our children.
When it was time to have “the talk” we would know.
That happened on the first day of fifth grade when my son sat down at the dinner table and asked his dad if it was true what the boys in P.E. told him. Taylor repeated the words, shocking me and quieting his little sisters.
“Can I see you in the other room?” I calmly asked my husband, my eyes saying something more. It was time, I informed this father, it was time he talked with his son about the birds and bees.
“What?” Randy declared, looking like I’d lost my mind.
“Did you hear the things your son said? You have to talk to him.”
“How am I supposed to talk to him about this stuff when I don’t even know what it’s about myself?”
For some reason that didn’t surprise me.
The back and forth continued until we came to a compromise. Randy would have “the talk” with our son, and someday, I would do the same with our two younger daughters. He would have to suffer once while I would have to do it twice.
Randy was happy about that.
I can only imagine what was said because a short time later, father and son emerged from behind a closed door with grins all over their faces. Randy assured me that everything went well and Taylor would not be asking any more questions like that at the dinner table. Randy was convinced that he had done his duty and told his son everything he knew about the birds and the bees.
No wonder the talk hadn’t lasted long.
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard