“Dad. What’s a rim job?”
My kids, aged 10 and 11, appear to be years ahead in everything except school work.
I’m living in a sea of expletives and sexual innuendos and have all but given up on punishing them for swearing.
The strange thing is that this gutter mouth never finds its way into the classroom or other people’s homes. It’s a special treat reserved only for us.
“Oh he is so polite.”
“His manners are impeccable.”
“What a delight he was with our young ones.”
“He’s such a good boy.”
“He even took his dishes to the dishwasher…”
Eh. What? Really. We talking about the same kids?
So should I really come down hard on them at home when they want to blow off some steam, stick their hands down their pants and discuss rim jobs?
“Dad is anal sex when two penises touch?” I’m asked on the way to footy training. Oh boy.
“No. Zak. It’s not,” scoffs Max, my nearly 12-year-old, who proceeds to tell him what it really means.
“Gross,” says Zak.
“How often do you and Mum have sex?” asks Zak.
“So. Some things are not appropriate for me to discuss. That is one of them. I’m glad you feel comfortable asking me. But I won’t be answering that.”
“At least two,” laughs Max.
I have a couple of comedians.
“Dad have you ever given someone a blow job?” I swear this came out my kid’s mouth one night at dinner.
As my broccoli splattered the wall like the final scene in Bonnie and Clyde, I coughed and gagged.