Sex [Part 1]

I'm going to write this in a few segments because, honestly, I have a lot to say and I think you would get bored and give up if you had to read it all in one go.

I know it is a little early to be thinking about sex when it comes to my kids.  Although... Luke does really like attention from the ladies-when we're out to eat, he'll scream at women until they smile and coo at him. I digress. Let me preface this potential lecture by informing you that I have bouts of insomnia that lead to me watching A LOT of documentaries. Most recently, I watched a really great film called, "Let's Talk About Sex."

Shockingly enough, I am very open and comfortable with sex and sexuality (those of you who know me well are probably rolling your eyes and/or smirking). It is very important to me that my children not be encumbered by shame, fear, or ignorance regarding sexuality as they grow older. I am already making an effort to encourage conversations about this topic to be casual and normal in my household.

I can already hear you shouting at me. "WHAT?! You talk about sex with your 4 year-old?!"

Maybe this is the way to do it.

Let me clarify. No, I do not talk about sex with my 4 year-old. I DO talk about our bodies, anatomy, gender roles, and sexual orientation to an extent and in a manner that is appropriate for Meike's age. For example, Meike knows that she has a vagina, which we call a "peapod" (because it's hilarious). It wasn't a topic that I broached; Meike asked and I answered. She also knows that babies come out of vaginas, but that is the extent of the detail of her knowledge.

The first time I ever gave one iota of thought to the inevitability of talking to Meike about sex occured sometime last year. She was in the bath. Out of nowhere, she pointed to her clitoris and asked me what it was. I think I vomitted a little in my mouth. I tried to avoid answering the question; hoping she just meant the general region.

My first response went something like, "That's your peapod." She wanted more specific information. "No Mommy, what's THIS part, right HERE." At that point, I was sweating and bright red. "Um, that's um, that's your clitoris. Ready for me to wash your hair? No? How about we put some color tablets in the water...What color do you want?" She ignored my attempt to quickly change the topic and shouted, "I HAVE A CLIFFORD-IS." Images of the preschool calling me the next day informing me that my child was running around telling people about her "clifford-is" ran through my mind.

Luckily (for me, at least), she hasn't ever talked about or inquired about that part of her anatomy again. When I talked to Meike's dad about it, curious if she'd asked him any questions, he asked me why I even answered her. I wish I had an purposeful and empowering response, but all I said was, "I didn't know what to say. I was flustered. It just came out."

In hindsight, I'm glad I told her. And it's kind of a funny story. I want Meike to be able to ask questions and talk to me about that kind of stuff. Now when she asks questions, I want to be able to talk to her in a calm casual manner. While, at this point, giving her the minimum amount of information necessary to satisfy her curiosity.