Yesterday after I picked Emily up from school, she launched one of her "never quite expected" questions:
"Mom, what's a condom?"
First, I congratulate myself for not driving into a snow bank, or unbuckling and throwing myself from the car to avoid answering.
"Um...Well, it is a type of plastic that goes over a mans penis to keep the sperm from getting into the vagina during sex."
I get the whole sentence out without breaking into sobs or shoving a plastic fast food spork into my jugular.
"oh.", she says.
Silence falls in the car.
"I think I've seen one....", she trails off.
I am tensed for the follow up, because I know exactly where this is headed and I am both horrified and irritated and embarrassed.
"In the toilet at home", she ends.
Oh. No. It is happening.
She is piecing it together. Me. Her Father.
"Which means that condom must have been Daddy's."
Oh. Please. Don't ask the follow up question. Please. I will give anything to not hear the follow up question.
"So Why is Daddy using a condom?......"
I stare ahead at the road. She has now turned and looked at me. Her eyebrows are knitted together.
At the stop sign, I turn and give her a half sheepish, half horrified smile. I start to open my mouth.
She stops me.
"Actually, I don't think I want to know", she concludes.
**************************************************************
This morning, I punch Terrance repeated in the arm as I recount this story. He needs to suffer too, albeit after the fact.
"I TOLD (punch) you to NOT (punch) put your CONDOMS (punch) in the toilet!"
Then I left him curled up on the couch in shock.
"Mom, what's a condom?"
First, I congratulate myself for not driving into a snow bank, or unbuckling and throwing myself from the car to avoid answering.
"Um...Well, it is a type of plastic that goes over a mans penis to keep the sperm from getting into the vagina during sex."
I get the whole sentence out without breaking into sobs or shoving a plastic fast food spork into my jugular.
"oh.", she says.
Silence falls in the car.
"I think I've seen one....", she trails off.
I am tensed for the follow up, because I know exactly where this is headed and I am both horrified and irritated and embarrassed.
"In the toilet at home", she ends.
Oh. No. It is happening.
She is piecing it together. Me. Her Father.
"Which means that condom must have been Daddy's."
Oh. Please. Don't ask the follow up question. Please. I will give anything to not hear the follow up question.
"So Why is Daddy using a condom?......"
I stare ahead at the road. She has now turned and looked at me. Her eyebrows are knitted together.
At the stop sign, I turn and give her a half sheepish, half horrified smile. I start to open my mouth.
She stops me.
"Actually, I don't think I want to know", she concludes.
**************************************************************
This morning, I punch Terrance repeated in the arm as I recount this story. He needs to suffer too, albeit after the fact.
"I TOLD (punch) you to NOT (punch) put your CONDOMS (punch) in the toilet!"
Then I left him curled up on the couch in shock.
12 Baleful Regards:
first, i, too, congratulate you, because i'd so much rather go the route of the spork to the jugular.
second, the visual of terrance curled up on the couch in shock--knowing, without a doubt, that his little girl knows HE HAS SEX--just tickles me near to death. especially since you just know he burst into muffled sobs over this knowledge as soon as you walked away. delicious.
i can't even say penis in front of my kids. and they have one.
Oh. My. GOD!!!! *snort, laugh, guffaw*
(Yes, I know my day is coming. But not today!! HEE!)
OMG! I dread the day I have this talk!!! I think Terrance needs one more punch!
I didn't think you were supposed to flush them anyway!
My husband always wraps them (well!) in toilet paper and puts them in the garbage.
Word verification = caphail: a condom is the cap for the hail from the penis.
Mary, I have been bitching at him for this habit for 20 YEARS.
It drives me mental - his flushing of the condom. It is partly my hope that this shames him into burying them Deep, Deep in the garbage from here on out.
And Mitzi. I do believe he is still frozen in fear. This is the man who wouldn't have sex with my in my last trimester without squealing
"But she is going to KNOW"....
Oh god, I dread that day. You, missy, handled that very, very well. I was dying just reading through that.
Years ago you posted that terrance had a vasectomy. Did it not take?
That must have been mortifying for Terrance, hee hee. And maybe this knowledge will help him to break the habit: absolutely nothing but toilet paper (and the results of our bodily functions) should be flushed down the toilet. Just because it flushes, or it says it's "flushable" (ie, flushable baby wipes) does not mean that it should be flushed. All flushable means is that the item will make it around the U bend in your toilet. Only toilet paper can be properly treated by the sewage system--everything else (tampons, condoms, flushable wipes, etc), are untreated and end up in our water systems.
Oh the Vasectomy took...I am just married to someone who is incredibly squeamish about "mess"....
MOR.TI.F.I.ED! I would be mortified!
But hey ... at least you're having sex with your husband!
:(
Oh. NO. Here's how ghetto I am, though: I thought she was going to say she'd seen one at recess or in the park or something.
Fraulein....I am sure she HAS seem them in other places, but now she Knows what they are.
The terrifying puzzle pieces have now been locked down....
Post a Comment