Chick was lying on my chest last Saturday morning, telling me about a cartoon he’d been watching. At 50 words a minute, Chick was describing how Finn, the main cartoon character was describing how a boy kissing a boy was ok. So, I took a second to ask Chick if he kissed his best friend.
“Nope,” he says, unaffected by the question.
“But you can if you want to, or girls, it’s up to you,” I add.
Moments later we are joined by the big guy. Beau curls into the bed and hears the conversation.
His back to me, he turns his head, smiling – little gaps where his teeth have fallen out and growing his second set.
“You kiss boys dontchya, Dad?”
“Yep and I betchya there’s not many dads at school that do that’ I squeeze him, ‘perhaps maybe there are a few’ I tease.”
“Have you kissed Rosanna?”
“Is she your girlfriend?”
“No sweetheart, just a friend”
“Then who do you kiss?”
I lay there thinking of what to say. The boys naturally try to tie things back into the majority – of what they see and experience. My job, in this instance, is to broaden it, even if it means stretching the story. The boys need the pendulum to swing way over this way to make an impact.
So I take the plunge.
“Well, I used to kiss Mum and then when I lived with Anthony, I kissed him. Lately, I’ve been kissing some monkey man…”
“…and – I kiss you two!” I head wrestled them both and nuzzled their little faces in a pitch of squeals and laughs.
Later Beau was looking through my phone trying to find an picture and he came across one of my kissing companion and I lounging near the harbour.
“Is that him?’ he paused on the photo.
“Yes,” I watched for a reaction.