It all traces back to an episode of The Good Wife. A rerun, no less. I can’t help but think that our young daughter’s loss of innocence can be directly linked to a passionate elevator scene from that show, which my partner and I decided to reenact one evening in the living room. Lawsuit? Unlikely. A future therapy session? Let’s just say we’re preparing to contribute to her therapy fund.
“Mom! Dad! Where are your clothes?” squealed our eight-year-old daughter, the unexpected visitor. Typically, the only intrusions into our bedroom are the nagging thoughts swirling in my mind—thoughts about how I could better spend that rare free time, like updating our budget or catching up on the latest celebrity gossip. And let’s not forget the late-night snack dilemma. Is that so wrong?
You might not be shocked to learn that our intimate life, aside from a brief, fiery encounter in the stairwell of a department store last year (now, that got your attention, didn’t it?), usually falls into the once-a-week category. Fulfilling? Yes. Bonding? Absolutely. Earth-shattering? Only on occasion.
That Sunday night, however, was one of those rare occasions. No grocery lists in sight; at least not for me. Just as we were lost in the moment, our oldest daughter, who was supposed to be sleeping soundly upstairs, came down the stairs and wandered into the hall. Normally, she prefers to yell for a glass of water or a hug from the comfort of her bed. But tonight, she decided to pay us an unexpected visit.
Out of nowhere, without any covering, our little princess stood before me, her eyes wide as she exclaimed, “What are you doing?” Her laughter was infectious, making it impossible for my husband and me to maintain composure as we scrambled to grab pillows to shield ourselves. We urged her to head back upstairs, promising we would join her shortly to tuck her in. After some giggles and hesitation, she finally obeyed, and we breathed a sigh of relief as we hurried to get dressed and regain our composure.
When it comes to parenting, figuring out the right approach in a delicate situation can either bring a couple closer together—or escalate tensions. My husband first suggested we deny everything (cha-ching for future therapy) before jokingly asking, “Where’s the book?” referring to that elusive parenting manual for moments like these. “We’ll tell her the truth,” I declared, my bravado mixed with a hint of panic. “Just follow my lead,” which was my way of saying, “Don’t mess this up.”
What followed was somewhat of a blur, but surprisingly, it turned into one of my proudest moments as a parent. Snuggled up on her fluffy comforter, we began to explain the situation: Mommy and Daddy were making love, our clothes had ended up on the couch, and while we were giggly and awkward at the moment, making love is a positive expression of love between adults. After this explanation, my mind screamed “Enough! Time to go to bed,” but my mouth instead asked, “Do you have any questions?” Of course, she did.
Her inquiries were numerous: “Why did you have to be naked?” “Why were you sitting on Daddy’s lap?” “Are you going to have a baby?” Her thoroughness sparked a mix of pride and terror within me. This led to an extensive discussion about making love and baby-making. As we navigated her questions, we took deep breaths and answered honestly (not always in that order). What began as a potential crisis transformed into a heartfelt connection, and I hope it’s a story we’ll retell without too much therapy in the future. I concluded with, “Making love is fun and feels good. You might want to do it someday when you’re older and in love.”
“Ewww! I doubt that will happen, Mom,” she groaned, rolling her eyes. With a sleepy sigh and a hug, she sent us on our way. The Good Wife awaited.
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