Yesterday, my son had the awkward experience of attending the Robert Crown Center for Health Education.  All kids in the 5th grade that attend public school here in Orland Park go unless you specifically request that they do not.  My eldest son went last year and came home completely disgusted and declared that “girls are gross!” and he didn’t want to discuss ANYTHING about it.  Yes, honey, keep thinking girls are gross.  Very, very gross.  Stay far, far away.

I have always been very matter of fact with my kids about most things.  If they ask, and they have, I will tell them the truth about almost everything.  My older ones already had a vague understanding of where babies come from because I was pregnant with my fourth child when they were old enough to ask questions. 

My youngest knows that “babies grow in the mommy’s tummy” but thinks the baby is spontaneous and just shows up every once in a while.  He recently asked me if I was going to “get another baby” and I replied that I did not think so because I have all the kids I want.  He then inquired “what are you going to do when the baby grows…..just give it to someone for their house?”  I love how the baby suddenly became a home accessory, kind of like a lamp or an area rug.  I really didn’t want to discuss this with my 6-year-old.  I quickly offered him a cookie and *Poof* there was never a question on the table. 

Cookies are great.

My son who went to Robert Crown yesterday came home disturbed that the presenter made the entire room of children repeat the words penis and vagina back to him.  Of all the things that were said and shown to him today, that was the most horrifying.  This surprised me since I consider embarrassing my kids a sport and have many times uttered the words penis and/or vagina for that very purpose. 

This child does not want to talk about it either, therefore has been walking through the kitchen with his hands pressed firmly over his ears while humming loudly to avoid my questions like “so, tell me about what you learned about PENISES!”  Mean?  Yes, but how often does an opportunity for humiliation such as this one present itself?  I have discovered that Mom uttering the scientific names of private parts is equivalent to Superman’s kryptonite with this kid.   I have even made up a body parts song for the occasion.  It’s a doozy. 

 Therapy will be costly.