The Talk

This week, Jake and I had The Talk.

You know, the one that all parents dread, the one that kids laugh about to each other, the one about how babies are made.

I didn't plan on having the talk, but Jake was ready. On our way to swimming lessons on Tuesday, Jake said,

"Mom, I think it's time to have the talk."

"The talk? You mean the one about how babies are made?"

"Yes. Jason [his cousin, also age 10] told me it was time. I asked him a question, and he said, 'I think you should ask your mom that.'" I have to admit, I was pretty impressed with Jason.

Trying to get out of it, I said, "Why don't you ask your dad that?"

Jake said, "I feel more comfortable having you tell me about it." Darn.

"Okay," I said. "Let's talk."

"I also heard there was a video. Jason said we should watch a video. But I heard that it was kind of bad."

"Bad?"

"Yes, like there was . . . umm . . . nudity in it."

I suppressed a smile, and said "oh." That was the end of Tuesday's conversation. But on Wednesday, I decided to go for it.

"Well, Jake, are you ready to have the talk?" Maia and Lizzy had just walked to the Ole Hanson pool to their swimming lessons and Jenny was asleep in the car, so Jake and I were free to talk.

"Okay."

"Okay, here goes." I said a quick prayer--because I certainly needed the help. And I wanted Jake to know that sex was something beautiful, not shameful, and that it was part of God's plan.

So we launched into it. The reasons for sex, the reasons to wait until you're married, why hormones are normal, and how it works. I tried to keep the conversation as simple as possible, asked Jake a few questions, and tried to make it conversational. I wanted Jake to know that he could ask me anything and that I would answer it honestly.

After I finished telling him how it works, Jake was done. "Umm, I don't want to know anymore," he said.

"Oh, okay." So I waited for him to say something. 30 seconds . . . 60 seconds . . . 90 seconds . . . but he sat there staring into space, completely expressionless. I could tell that the wheels were turning, and he was trying to figure it all out.

Finally, I rubbed his hair and said, "You okay, Jake?" He looked at me and said, "Yes. I'm okay."

We had 20 minutes left before his swimming lessons, so I said, "Is there anything else you want to ask me?" I guess he figured he'd heard it all, so he said, "Mom, why did you and Dad get divorced?" I did my best to be noncommittal on that one. Then he said, "How's our budget, Mom? Do we have enough money?"

Three huge topics in one half an hour. I was exhausted, but Jake was smiling at the end of 30 minutes. As he got out of the car for his swimming lessons, he smiled and said,

"Thanks Mom. I feel a lot better."

Whew.