A couple of years ago my son very seriously asked me, "Mom, how do those special kisses work?"
Immediately my brain went to the worst possible place and I assumed that he saw something, some ad, some commercial, some movie preview, something that was inappropriate for his age.
I am not ready for this talk, I am not ready for it. HE isn't ready for this talk. I should have thought about how I would approach this when the time came, now I am going to have to wing it. Shitshitshitshitshit.
While sorting through the possible places that he might have seen or heard something he shouldn't have and whipping mental grenades at those responsible for the breach, I sought some damage control by babbling something to the effect of, "Ummmm, derrrr, fffpppppthhhh...special kisses?"
"Yeah, you know! When I get a boo-boo and you make it all better by kissing it. How do you do that?"
"It's the love, honey. The love makes the boo-boo feel better." That answer came without having to think.
Now my boy can kiss away his little sister's boo-boos, but I am still squeamish about The Talks.
Why is it that even the most sexually libertine (not that that's me, not really) can get all woogly talking to their kids about reproduction? Or maybe the question is, when did I become such a freaking prude?