“Mom! Reeve still believes in SANTA!” River whispered as if sharing a scandal.
I considered River’s words as I handed him a plate of peanut butter Ritz crackers, his favorite after school snack.
Fourth grade DID seem a bit old for Reeve to believe in the jolly, fat guy. I feared he would detest his parents for making him the fool, but I played it down to my son.
“Well, maybe his parents think it’s good for him to believe.”
Each family to their own, but OUR family was going to have brave conversations when it came time for them, and today might as well be that day.
“River, get your sister and come to the couch. There’s a story I want to read to you.”
It was time for the sex talk.
Would it be awkward? Probably… but my son was almost 10. If I didn’t come clean with him soon, he would undoubtedly hear from a misinformed friend. Avia was only 7½, a bit young to be learning about sex, but we were going to power through together!
With their little bodies pressed on either side of me, I opened a picture book titled, It’s So Amazing!
I was relieved to have a book that explained sex from a scientific, “aren’t-our-bodies-astounding” perspective, and I was hoping it would eaaase us into this difficult topic.
As I read in my best matter of fact voice, River leaned in to examine the pictures. I peeked at Avi to gauge how she was taking the news. Her Asian features showed zero emotion as if I was reading about school policies. I took a courageous breath and continued.
The story went on from sex to explain puberty and healthy touch. Lots of info told in a casual, comic book way.
Not wanting my son to be an informant, I turned to admonish him.
“River, this is NOT for you to be telling your friends. Sex is for their PARENTS to tell them. It would be like you telling Reeve that Santa isn’t real…that’s for his PARENTS to tell him.”
“MOM!” With wide, hazel eyes, River gestured with his head.
I twisted to my left, where my daughter, who very much believed in Santa, was listening…
Avi’s face was no longer deadpan… Her eyes were wild with horror.
“There’s no SANTA??” her voice shook with shock.
My daughter had just been informed that people’s privates come together to create babies. Was she interested? Nope. Total snooze fest. BUT NO SANTA?? It was like she’d witnessed a puppy smashed by a semi truck.
I tried to back track, “I didn’t say there WASN’T a Santa, I said IF there wasn’t a Santa…”
Nice try Mom. There were no take backs.
I left my kids on the couch (“Good talk, guys.”) so I could make pizza and figure out how to extinguish this dumpster fire.
Parents, when considering having tough conversations with your littles, might I suggest bundling and telling them everything at once? Hurl your little one off the cliff into the icy waters below.
I find it saves time.
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