“I’ve smiled for long enough — now, can we go?” I begged Dawn to wrap up the parent drivel on the school’s church hall steps last Saturday night.
All the kids were dressed in their nice clothes, rolling around the grass and climbing trees. I noticed one of the girls lying flat on the ground while some of the boys from Beau’s class jumped on her in turn. It was a bit odd. Bella just did the communion procession, so I remembered who she was.
“C’mon guys, let’s go,” I hollered over their playful din.
The next morning flipping pancakes and dishing out crunchy nut cornflakes sans milk for Chick, Beau delivered his knockout statement for the year.
“Bella wants to sex a boy at school.”
Dawn coughed into her coffee and my pancake felt like it hovered mid-air for a moment.
“Really?” my voice nearly broke, and Dawn was giggling into her cup.
I kept it light, it was breakfast after all.
“Beau, do you know what sex means?”
Chick jumped in. “Yeah, it means that if you kiss your willy it will wee.”
“Oh my god, you two! Who on earth told you that?” I held the plastic spatula up as if it was my hand, resisting the information.
“Actually, don’t tell me.
“Well, the only thing I can tell you right now, is that if you’re old enough to have this sex as you are describing, then you are old enough for the responsibility of what comes — like having mini people for instance, having babies just like you.”
The boys looked thrilled to have thrown their boxer shorts-wearing father into the same sizzling pancake pan. There was almost delight oozing from the freedom of their knowledge.
It was like they were telling me something they were sure I knew about, but not convinced that their version of the truth was known to someone so old and out-of-touch like their dad. I mean, parents don’t have sex, do they?
I flipped some more flat cakey discs to Beau as he sat proudly on his stool.
Parents 0, Kids 1 — and we’ve only just begun.
