The other day I listened to a therapist give a podcast on how to talk to our kids about sex.
This makes me very uncomfortable.
I never want to talk about sex to anyone, let alone my kids.
But they say I must.
Did your parents talk to you about sex? Where were you? Sitting in the front room with your arms folded? Standing in line at McDonalds? Going up the stairs of the Statue of Liberty? Did your mom talk? Your dad? Your grandma? The tour guide?
Did you ask questions, request more information or mostly just die?
What about your MC? What does she know? Who told her? Does it matter? How does she feel about boys? And love? And all the rest?
Sometimes I like to think of the weirdest worst situations, like a mother attempting the talk in the subway or possibly at Subway. And a girl, like me, wearing my horrible Benetton outfit and eating a slimy turkey sandwich sitting in the booth, nodding and crying inside and also hoping she’ll tell me more details but not really, but really and will a boy ever love me? And want to hold my hand? But please not want to do that. Never THAT.
For ten seconds or ten minutes freewrite about the Birds and the Bees and your character and your life and then talk to your kids about sex at Subway.