“Mom, what’s prawnstitution?”
That question marked the start of a significant conversation about intimacy, all thanks to an episode of Futurama. My son was only 10 years old at the time and had previously shied away from any explicit discussions about sex. I recalled a moment from his earlier years when he asked my husband why Noah took two of every animal on the ark. Upon learning it was connected to reproduction, he quickly dismissed the topic with, “I don’t want to hear any more.”
Yet here we were, sharing a moment in front of the TV (the ultimate bonding space), and I realized it was a perfect opportunity to address the topic. Who knows what kind of information is being shared in health classes these days? I wanted to ensure he was well-informed.
“A prawn is a large shrimp, and prostitution is when people, usually women, engage in sexual acts for money, not out of affection,” I explained. He mulled over this, and I encouraged him to ask any other questions he had about sex.
“Well, my friend, let’s call him Charlie, said something wild. He claimed that a penis can get really big and then goes INSIDE a vagina.”
Charlie appears to be quite knowledgeable. (If his parents are reading this, they won’t realize their son is the source of this information, as I’ve cleverly used a different name.) I confirmed to my son that Charlie was indeed correct regarding the anatomy.
“Really!” he responded, as if hearing shocking news about someone who usually isn’t very smart winning a prestigious award.
He had more inquiries. While the common wisdom is that fathers should talk to sons about these topics and mothers to daughters, I wasn’t about to interrupt our moment to fetch my husband. I wanted to clarify any misconceptions and reassure him that Charlie was not his only source for this crucial knowledge.
I told him it’s perfectly normal to think about sex frequently or not at all. It’s also normal to feel confused, curious, or even indifferent about it. I aimed to communicate that there’s no wrong way to think about these things at his age. I also touched on the unexpected physical reactions boys may experience, triggered by various stimuli, including seeing an attractive girl on TV or even nothing specific. I mentioned dreams too, explaining that they were a normal part of growing up.
“Well, that’s a relief,” he said, while still focused on Futurama. Zoidberg scuttled across the screen as silence enveloped us for a moment.
“So, how often do people have sex?” he finally asked.
That was a big question with no straightforward answer. I explained that it varies from person to person and avoided getting too deep into how relationships evolve over time. I aimed to keep my explanation age-appropriate.
“So, do you and Dad have sex?”
“Um, yes. Yes, we do.”
“How often?”
It would have been easy to deflect with a “that’s none of your business” response. While I’m comfortable discussing sex in abstract terms, sharing details about my personal life is a different matter, especially with family.
“Um, fairly often. Sometimes.”
“Like, when was the last time?”
Oh dear. However, he wasn’t prying for personal details; he was seeking context. How frequently do people engage in intimacy? I recalled my own childhood curiosity about periods, wanting to know exactly what it entailed.
“Um, a couple of days ago.”
“Really!” Again, the tone echoed surprise.
I redirected the conversation back to him, and we lapsed into a comfortable silence for a bit.
“You know, you can talk to your dad about this stuff too,” I suggested.
“I think I’m fine talking to you.”
“Okay.”
“Can we get back to Futurama now?”
“Sure.”
And just like that, we had navigated the big talk about sex.
Growing up in the ’70s, there was a controversial book called Show Me, which intended to educate kids about sex but ended up terrifying many of us with its explicit content. It was banned in several places for being too graphic. I remember asking my mother when I would have to have sex, to which she reassuringly replied that it wouldn’t happen until I truly wanted it to. “Good!” I thought. “Then I’ll never have to.”
Times have certainly changed. Now, I strive to balance conveying that sex is a natural part of life while ensuring my kids understand it’s not something they need to stress about right now. I often wonder if they’re seeking information from others. Will they feel confused because their curiosity is sparked by Futurama?
I guess we are just figuring it out as we go along.
In summary, discussing sex with children can be challenging yet essential. Using relatable references, like Futurama, can open the door to these conversations, allowing kids to feel comfortable asking questions. A balanced approach can help children understand that intimacy is a normal part of life, while also reassuring them that they don’t need to rush into it.