Soapbox

Not Quite The Grossest Thing

October 16th, 1995

So I’ve got this kid…and I finally decided that I had put off having "The Talk" long enough. I didn’t want him to learn the facts of life first at school and embarass himself by shouting, "No way!" in front of the whole class or anything.

I had been sort of dreading this moment, because I remember my own "talk" with my mother when I was in 4th grade, and how I had been rather repulsed. Not only by the act itself, (which seemed pretty randomly stupid) but by the fact that my parents admitted to having done it! More than once! I could see sacrificing yourself once or twice for the good of the species, but what would make two otherwise sensible people want to… over and… yeesh!

So, because he is who he is, I eased into it by talking about heredity and genetics. He is really easily upset by things that you wouldn’t expect to upset a kid, but I know that anything scientific is cool to him. I discovered that he already knew an astonishing ammount of technical detail: X and Y chromosomes and how a fetus gets food and oxygen and cell division- everything but the actual method of delivery of sperm to egg.

Anyway, finally I bit the bullet and just flat-out told him just the bare bones of the matter. By the way, kid: here’s the deal with how that works.
He made a face and shouted, "Why do you want to gross me out like that?! I will never do that thing!" (Can I hold him to that when he’s 16?) Well you see what I mean about the sensitive thing. Maybe I should have gotten a nature documentary and let him watch some rabbits or something.

So I spoke calmly and patted his hand and steered the conversation over to umbilical cords and fetal circulation and soon he seemed to get over the horrible news I had delivered. This poor kid: clearly, life is going to hold some nasty shocks for him.
"Well," I thought as I went to the kitchen to contemplate dinner, " that went about as badly as it could have, but at least it’s done. I’ve done my parental duty and it’s behind us now, for a few years" I said to myself.
Turned out- not so much.

That evening, he came down to the family room about 10 minutes after he had been put to bed and announced,
"Mom, Dad: I can’t possibly sleep. I just keep thinking about that gross thing we talked about." The poor child looked close to tears.
His dad, having been clued in on the afternoon’s proceedings, sat with him and told him that it was actually OK that he thinks it’s gross, because it’s an adult thing after all, and not something kids should find appealing.
"Just say to yourself, ‘Yech, that’s gross! I’m glad I’m not a grown-up’ and don’t worry about it, buddy. "
"Well, Ok, Dad" he promised doubtfully as we hugged him.

He went back up to bed, but five minutes later we heard footsteps on the stairs and there he was. Apparently he had been doing some hard thinking about consequences.
"Look, I know I said I’m never going to do that gross thing, but if I don’t, Katie’s kids won’t have any cousins!"
This time there really were tears. We dried his eyes and told him that he doesn’t have to make a final decision on the kids thing for at least another 13-14 years, so he has plenty of time to work it out in his own mind. That seemed to comfort him. More hugging and "good night"-ing and back up to bed he went. But it was no surprise to us when he reappeared one more time.

"Mom, Dad: you know that gross thing?"
Oh my yes, it’s indelibly burned on my brain now, Stephen.
"What is it this time?"
"Well, " he said happliy, "I thought of something. Turns out, it’s not actually the grossest thing I know! It’s not really as gross as how frogs swallow their food by pushing it down their throat with their eyeballs, you know? I mean, hey, at least it’s not a gross as that!" He smiled brightly as Ted and I stared at each other in amazement.

?

"Uh… well, no, son, I guess it’s not quite that gross, no, " Ted managed.
Frogs push their food down with their eyeballs? I thought.
"Yeah, so it’s not really quite the grossest thing, after all. So… so I guess it’s OK ! Well, goodnight."
And that, apparently, was that. Problem solved. We wished him a fond and hopefully final goodnight and as soon as he was gone, we laughed so hard we nearly fell off the sofa!

Not quite the grossest thing. I personally take great comfort in that!