The Talk, 2011 Style
Last month my eight year old daughter, Tali and I had "the talk." I'd been waiting for her to ask me something about the topic for at least a year. Some of her friends had already been told and I wanted to make sure she heard it from me. The opportunity presented itself in an unexpected way.
We were watching the Academy Awards. Tali enjoys seeing the pretty actresses in their dresses, but at this moment a clip from the movie, "The Kids Are Alright" was on our screen. I haven't seen the movie but the plot is about a lesbian couple raising their two children. When the children become teenagers they decide they'd like to find the man who donated his sperm to their moms. In other words, their dad.
In the clip being shown the biological father and son were in a car when the son asked him why he donated sperm. He made a joke about it being more fun than donating blood and then said seriously, "I'm glad I did it." I was engrossed in the scene and not thinking about my eight year old sitting next to me when she asked, "What did he do? What's sperm?" I looked at her, not quite sure how I wanted to handle it and then decided very quickly.
"Do you want to know?" I asked.
"Yes." she answered, looking at me expectantly.
"Are you sure? It's a pretty serious conversation."
"Yes Mommy, I'm sure," she answered, looking straight into my eyes.
"Well," I began, "to make a baby, you need a part from a woman and a part from a man. When two women want to make a baby, they still need a part from a man called sperm." When I learned about the birds and the bees there was no discussion about anyone other than a man and a woman making a baby. I love 2011.
"What do sperm look like?" She asked. Oh boy.
"A little bit like tiny worms, like this." I drew a picture of a worm. I'm not an artist.
"So," I continued, "In order for two women to make a baby, the sperm goes into a syringe, like when you get a shot, and the doctor puts the syringe in between one of the woman's legs and pushes the sperm into her vagina. Hopefully the sperm swims up to her uterus and whichever sperm swims the fastest meets the egg that is waiting. The sperm goes into the egg and then a baby starts growing."
"Oh," she said. I waited, but she didn't ask how the sperm got into the syringe (thank goodness) so I was off the hook on that for now.
I continued, "Now if a woman and a man want to make a baby, the sperm comes out of the penis and into the woman's vagina and swims the same way."
"How does the sperm get in there? By kissing?"
"Here we go.." I thought.
"Well let me draw you another picture."
I turned over the sperm paper and drew a picture, I'll spare you the details. I told her about where the sperm grows and how it gets into the penis and well, you know the rest. Talking to her about it is much easier than writing about it.
I ended with what parents have said to their children since there were parents and children, "And that's how we made you."
She sat quietly for a bit and looked at the picture.
"Do you want to ask me anything else?" I braced myself.
"No," she said, still looking at the picture.
"What will you say if one of your friends asks you how babies are made?"
She answered confidently, " I'll draw them a picture." The scary part about that is that unlike me, she is an artist and I have no doubt that her picture would make things crystal clear.
"No, I'd prefer you don't do that. If one of your friends asks you, a good thing to say is, "That's something you need to ask your parents."
This puzzled her. "Why? Why can't I tell my friends?" She had a point. From her perspective this wasn't a private topic that shouldn't be discussed. Why was it not okay to share her enlightenment with her friends?
"It's just something that parents like to talk about with their kids rather than have them hear it from their friends. Your friends may have questions that you can't answer yet.
"Oh, okay. I won't tell my friends, but they might really want to know," she said.
"I'm sure they do honey, and I hope their parents will talk to them about it the way you and I are talking about it. Some of your friends may already know.
"Like who?" She asked, excited that she might be able to talk to a friend about this after all.
"I'm not sure," I said, "and until you're a little older we probably won't know who knows."
"Okay," she said, shrugging her shoulders.
"You can always talk to Daddy or me about this, we will answer all your questions."
"Okay I have a question," she said with a grin.
"Yes?" I responded.
"Can we watch the rest of the Awards now?"
"Nothing would make me happier, " I replied hugging her.
We were watching the Academy Awards. Tali enjoys seeing the pretty actresses in their dresses, but at this moment a clip from the movie, "The Kids Are Alright" was on our screen. I haven't seen the movie but the plot is about a lesbian couple raising their two children. When the children become teenagers they decide they'd like to find the man who donated his sperm to their moms. In other words, their dad.
In the clip being shown the biological father and son were in a car when the son asked him why he donated sperm. He made a joke about it being more fun than donating blood and then said seriously, "I'm glad I did it." I was engrossed in the scene and not thinking about my eight year old sitting next to me when she asked, "What did he do? What's sperm?" I looked at her, not quite sure how I wanted to handle it and then decided very quickly.
"Do you want to know?" I asked.
"Yes." she answered, looking at me expectantly.
"Are you sure? It's a pretty serious conversation."
"Yes Mommy, I'm sure," she answered, looking straight into my eyes.
"Well," I began, "to make a baby, you need a part from a woman and a part from a man. When two women want to make a baby, they still need a part from a man called sperm." When I learned about the birds and the bees there was no discussion about anyone other than a man and a woman making a baby. I love 2011.
"What do sperm look like?" She asked. Oh boy.
"A little bit like tiny worms, like this." I drew a picture of a worm. I'm not an artist.
"So," I continued, "In order for two women to make a baby, the sperm goes into a syringe, like when you get a shot, and the doctor puts the syringe in between one of the woman's legs and pushes the sperm into her vagina. Hopefully the sperm swims up to her uterus and whichever sperm swims the fastest meets the egg that is waiting. The sperm goes into the egg and then a baby starts growing."
"Oh," she said. I waited, but she didn't ask how the sperm got into the syringe (thank goodness) so I was off the hook on that for now.
I continued, "Now if a woman and a man want to make a baby, the sperm comes out of the penis and into the woman's vagina and swims the same way."
"How does the sperm get in there? By kissing?"
"Here we go.." I thought.
"Well let me draw you another picture."
I turned over the sperm paper and drew a picture, I'll spare you the details. I told her about where the sperm grows and how it gets into the penis and well, you know the rest. Talking to her about it is much easier than writing about it.
I ended with what parents have said to their children since there were parents and children, "And that's how we made you."
She sat quietly for a bit and looked at the picture.
"Do you want to ask me anything else?" I braced myself.
"No," she said, still looking at the picture.
"What will you say if one of your friends asks you how babies are made?"
She answered confidently, " I'll draw them a picture." The scary part about that is that unlike me, she is an artist and I have no doubt that her picture would make things crystal clear.
"No, I'd prefer you don't do that. If one of your friends asks you, a good thing to say is, "That's something you need to ask your parents."
This puzzled her. "Why? Why can't I tell my friends?" She had a point. From her perspective this wasn't a private topic that shouldn't be discussed. Why was it not okay to share her enlightenment with her friends?
"It's just something that parents like to talk about with their kids rather than have them hear it from their friends. Your friends may have questions that you can't answer yet.
"Oh, okay. I won't tell my friends, but they might really want to know," she said.
"I'm sure they do honey, and I hope their parents will talk to them about it the way you and I are talking about it. Some of your friends may already know.
"Like who?" She asked, excited that she might be able to talk to a friend about this after all.
"I'm not sure," I said, "and until you're a little older we probably won't know who knows."
"Okay," she said, shrugging her shoulders.
"You can always talk to Daddy or me about this, we will answer all your questions."
"Okay I have a question," she said with a grin.
"Yes?" I responded.
"Can we watch the rest of the Awards now?"
"Nothing would make me happier, " I replied hugging her.
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