We had a sex talk plan.
That plan was to wait.
Wait until 4th grade was over. Wait until the summer break between 4th and 5th grade had arrived. Wait until we could have the reproductive health, er, sex talk with our 10-year-old at a leisurely pace and without any nuggets or zingers from it seeping into her classroom chit-chats or into the recess yard banter or into the cafeteria scuttlebutt.
We were waiting just a little while longer to have the sex talk with our oldest daughter both for us — to preserve a few more glorious weeks of blissful childhood unknowing in her — and for other parents, too. To not have our girl accidentally spilling the beans on the sperm + egg / penis + vagina system to her 4th grade buddies who may not be hip to how they, their friends, teachers, parents, and most every other mammal, got here.
I’m nothing if not considerate.
But the jig is up.
A form recently came home alerting us of a special Always Changing — About You health class for the 4th grade scheduled for the following Friday. We’re talking menstrual cycles, reproductive body parts, stinky armpits… you know, all the juicy stuff.
Well, we’re not talking about it, school is, but you know, now we are. We must get in front of this End of Childhood School Year special, to ensure the first sex talk our daughter has is a sex talk with us, not some health teacher with Proctor & Gamble sponsored leaflets. That’s right, our school seems to have bought into some P&G program, with supplied documents littered with ads for their tampons, their pads and their deodorant.
New plan: divide and conquer. My wife will handle the icky this into that does this and that business. I’ll tackle the commercialism bit and, OK, armpit management too. Deal.