Before I even had children, I dreaded the dramas of parenthood: the arguments over curfews; the disagreements about what constitutes “appropriate” attire (as someone who wore a pair of Tevas on her wedding day–albeit a new, blue pair of Tevas–I sometimes feel slightly hypocritical about forbidding the wearing of flip-flops in the snow, but forbid it I still do); even the standard childhood accusation of: “you like him/her best” filled me with a certain degree of trepidation. By far, though, the parenting drama that I dreaded the most was “the talk”.
(Actually, there are several “talks” that I dreaded: the “sex” talk, the “drug” talk, and the “why is ok for you to sneer at that woman in the SUV when you drive your car two blocks to the library every time it’s a little windy?” talk). To my great relief and surprise, however, I found that the last two talks really could be covered by the “Do as I say, not as I do/Because I’m your Mother, that’s why” umbrella, and, as far as the first one is concerned: not only has it never come up, but at this point I am beginning to doubt that it ever will. After all, why would I ever need to explain something to my children about which they are so obviously well informed already?
Ok, so they probably don’t know everything. (Even I don’t know everything; for instance, I still can’t believe that after all these years they’re inventing new stuff–anal bleaching?). But, anyway, obviously they already know enough stuff to make the whole “birds and the bees” talk completely obsolete. Think about it: if they didn’t know at least the basics, how else would you explain the fact that they never, ever let us sleep alone?
In fact, my children are so diligent about making sure that there are always at least three people in the bed that I sometimes wonder whether or not this behavior was indoctrinated into them at an early age at some secret training camp they attended on the sly. (I can see it now: first they were pulled aside in Jumping Bunnies and told how to attend the next secret meeting of the parental separation society: “The time and location,” they were informed, “ will be hidden on a piece of paper deep in the bottom of the cat litter box; maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but soon; dump it out daily from now on just to be sure.”) Then there was the meeting itself:
Supreme Leader: Ok troops–you know the drill! These people are never to be let out of your sight! They are never to be left in a bed without at least one incontinent child sleeping between them at all times! Is that clear?
Foot Soldier: But I’m tired of sleeping with them. They snore. They smell funny. They eat hummus and then forget to brush their teeth…
Sergeant: Pull yourself together there–don’t you remember what happened the last time we let them have a night alone (looks significantly at nearby baby, drooling on a Lego tower)–hey! Those are mine!–anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, we don’t want another mistake on our hands, do we?
Front Line Troops: Sir! No Sir!
You could, of course, argue that if this were true then no parents (myself included) would ever have more than one child; this, though, would be ignoring the fact that in some cases, cases where parents are especially persistent (or sneaky), reinforcements need to be sent in. Maybe one, maybe a dozen: it all depends on the parents. (In our case, age, sleep deprivation and late night hummus have all taken their toll: all it takes now is two children to keep us apart–one to cover the bed, and one to cover the couch). Which reminds me–there is still one part of “the talk” they probably haven’t heard yet: the part about, if they ever want to have anything to “talk” about, lay off the garlic based dips after 10 pm.