I was minding my own business, sitting on his bed, saying goodnight, when he socked me with it.
“We’re supposed to have art class tomorrow. But, instead, they are splitting up the boys and girls to have some sort of meeting, something about growing up. I don’t know what they’re talking about it.”
Uh..eee..hmmm…here it goes.
“Oh, right. [never let ’em see you sweat] They’re probably talking to you about puberty.”
“Puberty…yeah, that’s it. That’s the word they used.”
“Right. Well, they’ll probably talk to you about how your body changes and stuff as you get older. I’m not really the expert on that since I’m a girl. But, Daddy can talk to you more about that so you know what they’re talking about.”
When in doubt, I call in the reinforcement who is not nearly as verbal as I am and wasn’t giving me nearly enough details when I grilled him about it 10 minutes later. It went well. He’s fine. It’s cool. I was told that he’s excited to “be a man” and that he reports that the only girl he’ll ever like is Mojo our cat.
Okay, I’m good. We’re good.
Whatever preparatory words Dad shared must have helped because he came home pretty proud of himself with his packet with fill in the blanks about body hair, voice changes, sweat, and pimples and—most importantly—his very own deodorant.
“Apparently middle school doesn’t like stinky things,” he informed me. “Smell it. It smells like the beach.”
I think every member of the family got to smell it too. When Drew asked him if he was going to use it tomorrow, Evan answered all cool-like, “Maybe,” just like a boy who’d be old enough to wear this stuff.
When I put him to bed tonight, I asked, “So…do you have any questions about what you talked about today? How do you feel about all that?”
“Fine. I have a question. What did the girls talk about?”
Between this and the impromptu mini-sex talk I had with Ashlyn in the car today after passing our veterinarian’s office, I’m ready for a stiff drink [ice water on the rocks, most likely, if I’m honest] and bed.