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How I Navigated ‘The Talk’ With My 5-Year-Old
“Mom, what is sex?” asked Ethan, fiddling with the label on his Spider-Man pajamas.
“Uh, well… that’s a bit complex. We really need to get going to school. Remember, you have to finish your Leprechaun traps today!”
Thank goodness we were running late. Again.
I always knew this moment would arrive, but I never imagined it would happen amid fairy tale discussions, superhero capes, and the endless recitation of The Cat in the Hat for the millionth time.
A quick internet search with the phrase “sex talk 5-year-old” made it clear I should respond to his inquiry promptly to foster trust and a healthy attitude about sexuality. His curiosity was deemed normal, and my plan to postpone the talk until he was 37 was clearly misguided.
After hours of Googling, the pressure grew as I envisioned being the “perfect mom” I often fantasized about. You know the type—the ones whose cabinets don’t spill Tupperware every time they open, the ones who clean up the ketchup bottle after every meal, and the ones who garden in pearls and perfectly manicured nails.
Good moms are always ready for The Talk with their kids.
When Ethan returned from school, I prepared a snack of celery with peanut butter and raisins, arranging the raisins just right to mimic the “ants on a log” I’d seen on Pinterest.
We settled at the kitchen table, and with a deep breath, I donned my best serious expression. “Sweetheart, I wanted to talk about your question from earlier.”
Crunch
“What question? And why does your face look funny?” he asked.
“About… you know… the thing you asked me this morning,” I said, desperately hoping he’d forgotten.
Crunch
“Oh right, the sex. My friend Mia told me her parents did the sex and now she has a baby in her tummy, and her mommy is going to poop it out soon.”
Crunch
“Ethan, please chew with your mouth closed, okay?”
“Okay. I really like this cerely, Mommy.”
“Celery.”
“Cerely.”
“CELL-ER-REE.”
“CE-RUH-LEE.”
“Forget it,” I said, feeling my left eye twitching.
“Do you have a baby in your tummy, Mommy?” he inquired, glancing at my food baby that I’d been trying to lose since 1992.
“No, sweetie, I don’t.”
“Maybe you should have sex with Mia’s dad to get one.”
Now both eyes were twitching. Deep breath, Lisa.
“It doesn’t work like that, Ethan.” In reality, it does, but Mia’s dad has a less-than-appealing smile, and I wasn’t sure my husband would approve. Focus, Lisa.
“Sex is something that happens when you love… or really, really like a girl or a boy or sometimes both at the same time.”
Oh dear.
Whenever I get anxious, my brain tends to turn into a word salad. Job interviews? Not my strong suit.
“My friend Jake told me you get a baby by hugging and kissing someone really tight,” he said, licking the peanut butter from his fingers.
“No, honey, that’s not quite right. Sex is… it’s a special thing that you do with your body and another person or group of people—not animals or family members—who feel the same way you do.”
Crunch
Why didn’t I just make peanut butter and jelly instead?
“It’s important to use protection if you want to avoid unwanted side effects like itchiness and, um, kids.”
Oh dear lord.
“Mommy? Can I have some more cerely?”
“Uh, sure.”
“Can I eat it downstairs?”
“Well…”
“Please? I’m bored and want to watch TV.”
Never have I been more grateful for a 5-year-old’s fleeting attention span! “Yes. Absolutely.”
He leaped out of his chair, wrapped his arms around my neck, and proclaimed, “You’re the best mommy in the whole wide world.”
With a sigh and a shake of my head, I put on my pearls and faced the Tupperware cabinet.
In conclusion, tackling The Talk with my little one wasn’t quite as daunting as I anticipated. It was a moment filled with giggles, confusion, and a hint of chaos—a fitting reflection of parenthood. If you need more tips on family planning, check out this insightful resource for home insemination.