Today, I’m sharing with you a short post I wrote when we lived overseas. Smarty Boy was about eight at the time of this conversation. Enjoy!
If people knew all the strange things kids ask, they would never, ever procreate. Luckily, I suppose, we enter into this parenting thing completely blind. Then our children lure us into a sense of safety and—BAM!—they hit us with something new.
Yesterday at the grocery store, we were standing in line and I glanced to my left. There, on a rack, were about 500 kinds of…ahem…protection. Now some people like to impulsively purchase gum or candy or even batteries. I never realized those were an impulse buy. Wishful thinking on the buyer’s part?
Of course, Smarty Boy’s attention was also caught by the array, and he pointed out the box labeled “Retarding.” Exactly what that means when it comes to condoms, I’m not 100% sure, but I think I have an idea.
So, of course, he wanted to know what they were.
Pitching my voice low to avoid the Muslim lady in front of me hearing, I said, “They’re condoms, but not something we need to talk about in the checkout line.”
“But Mom, what are they?”
“We’ll talk about it when we get outside.”
So we got to the parking lot, and he didn’t say anything else. We hopped in the car. Nothing.
I could’ve let the topic slide, but I knew I shouldn’t. I took a deep breath and asked, “So do you want to know what those were?”
“Yeah.”
“They’re condoms. Do you know what a condom is?”
“No.”
Good, I think. “They’re something that men wear on their pe—”
“Nah. Nah. NAH. NAH!” he yelled from the backseat.
“But—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he said.
“Okay, let me know when you want me to finish my sentence.” I had to laugh. Had to.
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Today is National Hug a Plumber Day. Okay, if you have a plumber at your house to hug, you’re probably having a crappy day and need someone to give YOU a hug. But butt crack and a hug? Possibly more than you can handle on a day when your toilet is overflowing…
