I did it

Big Kid hopped into the car after school the other day and said, "I want you to tell me 'bout how kids are made. How their parents make them, the babies."

Warning bells and sirens began to ring in my head. "Why? Was someone talking about that in school or what...what makes you ask?"

"I just wanna know. I asked you before and you said you'd tell me one day when little kid wasn't around. I see he's sleepin' and I'm just tired of not knowin'. I asked you lots of times and I still never do know."

"Oh, er, um, well, when mommies and daddies love each other very much, sometimes they decide to make a baby and then the mommy carries it in her tummy and then there's a baby! Pretty neat!" My final valiant effort at deflection.

"No. I wanna know HOW THE BABY GETS INSIDE THE MOMMY'S TUMMY, I know that other stuff. I want to know HOW THE MOM AND DAD MAKE THE BABY BECOME A BABY."

"Oh, yes, that. Okay, well--"

"Is it about the S-word?"

"When you say the "S-word, you mean...sex?" I ventured.

"Yes."

That's when I knew there was no escaping this conversation this time. I know he is aware and confused about the existence of the word “sex”—thanks in part to the song Birthday Sex (Are they saying Birthday Sex? No, they're saying Birthday Six. No, they are saying Birthday Sex, for sure, I can read it when it comes up on the car radio screen. Hmm, what the heck station are we even listening to? This song makes no sense!) and Michael Scott from the Office (thanks, Michael) but now I was realizing that he understood more than I had originally assumed and was piecing things together on his own. I took a deep breath, mind racing.

"Yes. When a man and a woman really love each other, they might have...sex," I said, cringing. "And when they're trying to make a baby, sex makes it so the man's body puts something like a seed into the woman's body."

I glanced in the rear view mirror. He looked as horrified and as confused as I felt.

"Oh, gross! Are you kiddin'?"

"Well, it's kind of like a seed? But it's a fluid--"

(at this point, my brain is screaming OMG! TOO MUCH INFO! ABORT MISSION, pull into Wendy's, buy him a Frosty and hope to God we can put this behind us! Shut up NOW! NOW!)

"...I don't know, but anyway the seed plants itself into an egg the mommy has in her tummy and then a baby grows from that. It really is an amazing thing. I know you're still confused but I think that's enough information for someone your age. I promise that we'll talk about this more often as you get older and when it is time for you to know, I will make sure you have no questions, but...yeah, that's the gist of it."

There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Ookaaay, well, I've heard enough about that. I am confused, but I think you're right that it's enough."

"Yeah. Don't go telling other kids though, okay? That's a job for their mommies and daddies." (Mwahahaha, I will not be alone in this discomfort!)

"I'm not going to be tellin' first graders about sex, mom. Man, I'm so embarrassed I even just said that."

"Yeah, I'm a little embarrassed about all of this, too. I mean, it's a nice thing and it's a good thing but...let's be done talking about this now and try not to use that word, like, at all."

"Good plan", he said as he leaned back in his booster seat and quietly looked out the window, while I silently freaked out at how awkward I had been about the whole thing but also felt glad to have temporarily staved off his curiosity on the subject.

I hope.

Memo from Work Friends

"Look! I got a letter fwom my wook fwiends," said little kid.

"Oh? What does it say?" I asked, humoring him.

"It says, 'Dear little kid, your mumum is really dumb."

"little kid, how dare you say that? This is your first and last warning, watch your mouth or you're getting a time-out. I have really had it with you."

"You can't give my wook fwiends a time out! And you can't give me a time out just 'cuz my wook fwiends thinks you're dumb! I tode you they are bad guys, sometimes."

"Don't start. I have been very patient with this whole thing with your work friends. Knock it off with the language, that's what I'm telling you."

"I'm tellin' you my wook fwiends writed this letter!"

"I watched you write it. You sat at the kitchen island, wrote it with a pen you got from my purse and then read it to me. I'm not dumb."

"I don't think you are, just my wook fwiends does."

He Wins

The arguing with little kid has gotten truly out of control. First, he has an answer for everything. Can't go to the pool because we have stuff to do? Yous can do your stuff tonight! No money for Star Wars toys? I saw dollars in your purse or yous can swipe your card! I can't have popsicles for breakfast? Well, yes I can, yous can just get them fwom the fweezer! This is the day to day (minute to minute) dialog. He cannot hear the word "No" or any variation thereof without offering a counter-argument or solution.

Then there's the true arguing, in which he yells, "Oh really? You wanna piece of me? You'll pay for this!" when I attempt to discipline him. This is less frequent (but still plenty frequent) and it makes me sympathize with child abusers. Telling a child to go in time-out and hearing this back is maddening.

We just finished debating about whether or not he can watch the Omen IV on Netflix Instant Watch, because he claims to love scary movies (He saw Beetle Juice once.) It's clearly not even up for debate, there's no freaking chance of it happening, but that doesn't stop him from trying...and trying...and trying.

And when I say he will argue about ANYTHING, I really do mean anything and everything. Here is one of his new favorite conversations:

I loves you, mumum.

I love you, too, little kid.

I loves you more.

No, little kid, I love you more. The mommy always loves the baby more.

No, I loves you more! I! Loves! You! More! Mumum!!

Okay, we love each other the same. You have a very sweet heart.

No, mumum, I loves you more. Right? Right, I loves you more? I do loves you more.

I am so sick of this conversation, as sweet as it is, that I usually just agree that he loves me more. This satisfies him and immediately concludes the conversation. Sure, one day he'll tell his therapist that his mom frequently agreed that he loved her more than she loved him, but whatever.

The other day we were at Target (not buying Star Wars toys, much to his dismay) when he started the "I loves you" debate. When I cheerfully answered, "Okay!" to his "I loves you more" I realized how awful I may sound to anyone overhearing us.

But I got over it as I went on to shop peacefully without fighting over who loves who more for 10 more minutes.

I really cannot win.

(But I do love him more.)

Man Up

"Big Kid, whatever happened to that Puppy Luv game on the Wii? You don't play that anymore."

"Yeah, Puppy Luv. I quit playin' that when I manned up at 5. It was a good game though."

"Manned up?! When you manned up at 5? You had to quit Puppy Luv?"

He sighed and looked wistful, "That's when I learned a little about looooove, when I was 5. Sometimes I wish I didn't."

Unfortunately, I never figured out what exactly he learned about love because Mr. Ashley and I laughed for so long afterward that my muscles ached the next day.

No Deal

Me: little kid, we're going to have a better day today, right? Yesterday was not a good day.

little kid: Does this mean you're gonna take me to Target and get my Star Wars guys?

Me: No! No, little kid, this means you're just going to be good. For the sake of being good.

little kid: No deal. Can we go to Target a day?

Oh yay, Tuesday!

Don't you love it when people sneak into your bed in the middle of the night to pee in it?

I freaking love that. Nothing better than waking up in a cold puddle of pee to the soft snoring of an extra person in your bed hogging the covers at 3am. In my experience, it's even better if you've recently rented a steam cleaner and cleaned all of the mattresses. Also, there's the extra laundry to look forward to!

Then when that same person starts his day by asking for everything under the sun, confident that you'll cave on at least a few of these things as the day wears on, it's like, "Gosh, being a mom is so fun! Why yes, you can have candy and popsicles and go to the pool and play baseball and go to Target for Star Wars toys and wash the sliding glass doors all by yourself and then play Mario on the Wii, all before lunch time. Why, yes, you certainly can, little light of my life!"

It's 9:23 a.m, he's already had a piece of candy and he's playing the Wii as I type.

I never said I was good at this whole parenting thing.

(Well, I may have said that when I only had one child--I believed that then.)