I have always very felt very strongly that I want my son to be able to talk to me about anything. When he was about 5 I drew him diagrams of where babies came from. When he was about 9, after much research, I bought him a fabulous book called Lets Talk about Sex. But lately I've been a bit lazy. The book hasn't moved from the bookshelf in about 4 years and there are other things I probably should have talked to him about by now. He's a teenager already and I've not even told him not to take drugs yet. In fact we haven't talked about drugs since he did his science project on cannabis last year when he concluded it should be legalised.
And the last time I mentioned testicles he thought it was a made up word (don't worry-this was some time ago).
So today, when I went in to say goodnight, I perched on the edge of his bed and said 'Darling, you know that you can talk to me whenever you want. You can talk to me about anything; puberty, sex, drugs, alcohol, families..." well, may as well get it all out the way in one go. I thought I'd exhausted every topic, no wait,".......death" there, that was everything.
'Has anyone died? '
'No, but you might be worried about it still.'
'Should I be?'
'Well no, but if you were you know you can talk to me about it....'
'....well, I'm glad we had this chat son.....
....Do you have any other questions you want to ask me? Anything you don't quite understand?'
'When are you bringing up my cup of tea?'
I brought up his tea and two biscuits placed on a book I found.
'What's that book?'
'Oh nothing darling, just something to put the biscuits on'
He looked at the book and screwed up his face 'Lets Talk about Sex?????'
"Oh, now that sounds like a good idea!"
I think that was the point my son growled and pulled his quilt up over his head. Nevermind, I'll have to try again tomorrow....