Context: This was originally part of short monologue for a writing class but it will most likely be part of How to Raise a Future Therapy Patient.
Context: This was originally part of short monologue for a writing class but it will most likely be part of How to Raise a Future Therapy Patient.
Kid: Hey mom, what’s a trans-man?
(pause)
What’s a trans-man. What’s a trans-man? That’s how it started. What was I supposed to do? I’m driving down the street, he’s at home. Cell phones, not the most desired method to deliver the Wisdom of the Gods.
Me: What are you watching?
Kid: Queer Eye.
Ok. Truth time. Every parent plans “THE TALK” but you don't mentally prepare to give it to a six years old. I thought I had time. Hm.
Me: Nanda, it’s complicated. Can we talk when I get home? I will be there in two minutes.
Kid: Sure, can I keep watching it?
Me: Yes.
The questions started at six and I'm still waiting for them to stop. An endless loop of fifty questions. Fifty NEVER..Ending…Questions. I live on a sex edition of the Quiz Boy Show.
We talking for more than an hour about sex, gender and accepting others. It was good.
It was real good. It was time to bring up the conversation again but how?
Cue, “Knocked Up”
The Kid’s attached to me, at the hip, still...
It’s impossible to watch anything without him coming in to ask what it is. 20 seconds later...
Kid: What you watching?
GENIUS!
By the time it was done he was asking me all sorts of questions. This one ended up being us sitting around laughing and talking about men, women, sex.... the whole thing... forever.
Kid: Mom, how old do I have to be before I can date?
Me: 20
He has no idea! I told you I’m genius.
Kid: Mom, is it illegal to have sex before you're married?
Me: I hope not.
Kid: What?
Me: Clearly it isn't because you are here. Sex before marriage is not Mother-approved. Most of reality is not Mother-approved.
Kid: When is it legal to buy condoms?
Me: Like time of day or season?
Kid: How old do humans have to be?
Me: We humans don’t have an age requirement to buy condoms.
Kid: What if I can’t buy them?
At this point there is real fear in his voice. He’s really scared there will be some dire emergency. Is he planning for a city-wide shortage? International spy conspiracy? A swarm of woodpeckers attacking the condom supply?
I’m baffled. Luckily for him I have a small, tiny hint of maternal instinct smothered in the middle of my smart ass parenting.
Me: If you need me to I will buy some for you.
Kid: Really?
Me: Yes, if you have to do it I want you safe.
Kid: What if I am too embarrassed to ask you?
Me: Hm. We need a code word.
Kid: Yes!
He is really excited here. After all, he thinks I’m a spy. Once when he was five he freaked out. I mean freaked out! He wouldn’t let me walk in front of any window because he was convinced there was a sniper out there waiting to get me. I was just flattered that he thought I’d done anything cool enough to warrant snipers. Good kid!
Oh, sorry, back to the code word.
Kid: Bananas!
Me: Bananas?
Kid: Yep. I'll just ask for “bananas”.
For the next week, at least, the Kid comes rushing in, in a total panic. A major damn emergency. He’d stop crack a big smile and enthusiastically yell, “Bananas!”
Smiling, with the grocery list, he still writes “bananas”.